


Back in Black

by Insert_witty_username



Category: Doctor Strange - Fandom, Iron Man - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe, Branding, Cheating, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, It gets happier, M/M, Neglect, Past Abuse, Past Stony, Stephen goes from evil to not evil, Stephen goes into an alternate universe to try and find a new Tony, Stephen is sad, Tony 1 dies at the beginning, Tony Stark/Stephen Strange Parenting Peter Parker | Supremefamily | Strange Family, Villain Stephen Strange, abused stephen strange, and canon universe, despite all these crazy tags, evil tony was a terrible person, no sex is actually shown, slowburn, some light bloodplay, theres a whole lot of yikes here guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2020-11-09 08:40:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 88,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20850599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Insert_witty_username/pseuds/Insert_witty_username
Summary: Stephen Strange had lived his whole life bringing about the end of the end of the world just to rule its burning ruins side by side with his beloved husband. Unfortunately, in the final battle, the love of his life and his incredible son fell alongside the rest of the world. But Stephen, fixed on the happy ending he had dreamed of refused to accept their deaths as the end and opened a portal to another multiverse, intent on a do over. Masquerading as the alternate version of himself, Stephen is determined to find his love, turn him back to the dark side, and destroy the world for a second time.Tony's death would be an easy fix. All he needed to do was corrupt the infinitely good Tony Stark. Easy, right?***Updates will come when they come dont worry I'm still going im just real busy





	1. A New Beginning

The world had ended. Just like they wanted.

Smoke poured up from the ruins of New York City, sparks spitting starkly against the dark background of airy gore. The quiet streets were filled with sirens, all screaming out for help that would never come. The pavement was cracked and split, twisting upwards in jagged waves wrought by destruction. And beyond that were the bodies. Dozens of them, both familiar and strange, piled up in twisted mounds that rivaled the casualties of all previous wars combined.

Stephen took a deep breath of acrid air, a cruel smile twisting his face in a blissful dance of joy.

They’d torn their universe apart by the seams, from the superficial lives above to the deep spiritual fiber of creation. They’d ripped it apart and laughed as chaos dripped, sparkling and sweet, from the wounds. And now they’d rule the burning wreckage of the world. Just the three of them.

Pain shot through Stephen’s head and he stumbled backwards, digging the palms of his hands into his forehead as his vision tunneled and spun. His lungs seized, sporadic bursts of panic lighting his muscles ablaze. His hands shook more than normal. Everything was wrong. Himself. And Peter, Tony-

He dragged his hands down his face, nails digging into his skin in a feeble attempt to ground himself.

Everything was supposed to be perfect.

High on the drugs of victory and serotonin and dopamine they were supposed to stand, overlooking their conquest like kings before their cloudy kingdom. But- but here he was, standing in the dust and derelict destruction. And Tony, Peter, they had-

Stephen turned around, dread seeping through his bones and into his heart.

There, bodies framed against the gleaming wreck of glass and metal, lay the twisted forms of his husband and son. And by that, a shield spattered with the blood of both friend and foe.

A desperate laugh clawed at Stephens throat, so sharp and visceral he feared his lungs would tear, flesh reduced to blood-soaked ribbons. He needed them. He couldn’t go on without them. The love of his life, the man who filled every second of his isolation with dizzying joy, and the son whose intelligence never failed to make Stephen proud.

He turned away, denial crawling up his spine and nesting in his heart. They weren’t dead. They couldn’t be. And even if they were- Stephen was the master of time. He was the goddamn sorcerer supreme! He had ripped apart his universe, he could very well build another. He wouldn’t stop until everything was perfect.

They’d rule the world and watch as it melted around them like delicious insanity. Everything would be perfect. It had to be.

Burying the bodies was difficult, but only in the mental aspect. Indeed, seeing the faces of his two most trusted companions disappear beneath the earth of a central park garden was far more disconcerting than destroying the world. Even as the air thinned under the supernatural split of electrons, the dirt of Stephen’s shovel scared him far more than any apocalypse.

But it was no matter, he told himself, even as he laid a rudimentary wreath of flowers over the two flat stones he had picked as grave markers. He just needed to try it again. He had all the time in the world. Somewhere in the infinite miasma of the multiverse was the perfect ending, and he was determined to find it.

Somewhere in the process his panic died and numbness rose from its ashes.

With one final look back at the newly dug graves of his husband and son he pulled out his sling ring and cast an intermultiversal portal, sparks glowing a bright, vivid red.

The easiest portal to fixate on was always a mirror. One’s reflection held great power, as physical embodiments were easily bound to the mental attributes. Manipulating that into a portal was almost child’s play.

Stephen emerged from the sticky pull of a mirror into the familiar, unblemished halls of the Sanctum Sanctorum. He stumbled onto the well-worn carpets and looked around, taking a deep breath of the faded, aromatic air. Dust motes painted columns of light from the window to the wooden floors. Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with tomes of cracked red and gold leather, spines worn with age. The center of the room was scattered with glass cases filled with old relics of limitless power. So similar to his old home, yet infinitely different.

He took a deep breath, the perfumed air of the Sanctum pleasantly burning his lungs. Everything was going to be perfect. He could feel it.

“Wong?” A familiar voice echoed up the stairs. “Is that you? I felt a disturbance in the fifth reality. Is everything okay?”

Stephen grimaced. Of course. He would have to get rid of his alternate self. An easy, yet arduous task. He pressed his back against the outcropping of bookshelves, twisting the fabric of reality around him until he was sure he couldn’t be seen from the stairs.

His alternate self, all good and smart and perfectly boring, marched up the stairs, wine-red cloak fluttering behind him. How mundane.

He passed the mirror and began walking in Stephen’s direction, ignorance practically polluting the air. He passed by Stephen, eyes glazing over the place the dark sorcerer had twisted the shadows to conceal his form. He huffed in annoyance, turning in a full circle and surveying the room. He rolled his eyes.

“Probably listening to his stupid headphones again,” Alternate Stephen muttered. “I regret ever showing him Beyonce.”

So that was one constant in their universes. Stephen’s Wong had also had a bit of a guilty obsession with the goddess-like woman.

His alternate self turned back towards the stairs, defenses fully lowered after a so called ‘false alarm.’ Subduing him would be easy.

Just as he walked by, Stephen conjured a blade of glassy mirror and slammed his doppelganger into the wall, clamping a steady hand over his mouth. His alternate self’s eyes widened, the beautiful pools of blue-green ocean filling with terror. Stephen grinned and leaned close, running the edge of the blade along one of those god-like cheekbones. Drops of blood, the smallest, most delicate beads of glass, trailed behind like the lines eyes traced between the stars.

Beautiful.

He licked his lips and watched his alternate self tremble in fear. He brought his blade down to his long, elegant neck, eyes glittering dangerously.

“Scream and I cut your vocal chords and use your mouth for something worthwhile.”

That elicited a soft whimper and a fragile shiver that made Stephen almost wish he truly meant those words.

“Now you won’t scream for me, love, will you?” he continued, sliding the blade along the delicate skin millimeters above his captive’s neck. The man in his arms nodded, careful not to move too much. Stephen smirked. “There’s a good boy,” he purred. He moved his hand away, using it instead to trace glowing red runes across his other’s wrists and pin them to his chest, binding them together.

His alternate self took a deep, shaky breath, licking his lips carefully.

“W-what are you?” he asked, voice trembling just as much as his hands.

Stephen chuckled, bringing his free hand away from his doppelgangers chest to cup his chin, jerking the man’s head up in a rough semblance of dominance.

“Oh love, I’m afraid I’ll be asking the questions here.” He tilted his head, considering the man before him. So frail. So ordinary. Weak. “But since you asked so nicely, I suppose no harm could come from one answer. Knowledge is power, after all. And power corrupts.”

He tightened his hold on his other self’s throat, smiling as the skin reddened under his touch. He could feel the other man’s trachea flutter desperately for air.

“So what- who- are you?” the man choked out, a slight raspberry tinge rising to the high crest of his pale cheeks.

“Oh that’s so simple, though. I thought we were supposed to be smart,” Stephen tutted. “Now go on, guess. I’ll tell you if you’re right.”

“Are you a demon? A minion of Dormammu? An illusion? A hallucination?”

Stephen rolled his eyes.

“Well I do have to give you credit. We always do overthink everything, don’t we? We just love to ignore the obvious.”

The ocean eyes before him widened in realisation, horror spilling across their pacific depths. The jaw in his hand, oh so tense before, relaxed in shock.

“You’re… me. Just me. No magic. No tricks.”

“Finally! I never thought you’d get it. Dear Vishanti, all those futures you flipped through- what was it, 4,000,632? 14 million?”

“14,000,605.”

“There you go!” Stephen cried, giggling, watching the fear in the man before him draw to a boiling point. “All those futures and you didn’t see any of this. And I thought we were smart! Some sorcerer supreme you are. Oh well,” he sang. “That won’t matter soon anyways.”

“W-what are you going to do to me?”

Stephen bit his lip. He adored the pure, undiluted fear in those eyes.

“Oh don’t you worry about that, beautiful.” He let out a tiny laugh, thumb working between his other’s lips, pulling apart his teeth and relishing the feeling of sharp canines digging into his flesh. “Sorry, honey, I just forgot how adorable ordinary people are. So funny. So predictable.” He rolled his eyes, all glee draining from his face. “So dull. As for your future, well, staying alive is so boring isn’t it? Wouldn’t want a boring end for a boring person, now would we?”

He could feel the heartbeat of the man in his arms quicken, pulse racing in a desperate bid for self-preservation. So intoxicating. If only he had more time…

“I’m just kidding, love. Don’t worry. I don’t have anything fatal planned. Yet. Wouldn’t want to see that beautiful face go to waste, now would I? No. I have something else planned for you.”

“So if you’re not here to kill me, then what do you want?” his other self spat, voice hardening.

“Now you’re asking the right questions!” Stephen cried. “But unfortunately, that doesn’t concern you.”

The smile dropped off his face and his eyes hardened. He pressed the blade into his alternate self’s trachea, barely taking joy in the rivlets of blood cascading down his slender neck. This was serious, and he could tell his other self could sense the change in atmosphere.

“Now. Tell me. Where is Tony Stark?” he hissed.

The man before him stilled, incessant trembling replaced by hard anger.

“No. I won’t let you hurt him.”

Stephen smiled. “Oh love, you don’t have a choice.”

His doppelgangers eyes flashed and he let out a cry as he burst forwards, pushing back at Stephen with all his might. Stephen stumbled backwards, cursing as he slammed into a display case. Glass shattered behind him, tiny shards of diamonds raining down into his hair.

“Oh, so you want to defend the iron man’s honor? I’m flattered! But don’t you worry your pretty little face, I promise I’ll take good care of him,” Stephen sang, grinning as he watched rage spread across his alternate face like wildflowers across a field.

“You can’t have him!” his other self cried.

He tore apart his bonds and maneuvered his shaking hands to form a golden spell, one that Stephen easily waved away. The other man lunged forwards, yellow sparks dancing like death across his fingertips. Stephen dodged and ducked, giggling as he wove between each attack, red spells dripping from his hands in retaliation. Reality folded and reverted, matter and magic spilling across the air as the two danced back and forth, the perfect match. Black and white. Good and evil. Madness and morality.

But good never truly prevails, does it?

Stephen had been having so much fun, playing with the mundane, poking and prodding and seeing what made it tick. That is, until...

  
His other self ran forwards, sending forwards wave after wave of golden spells that Stephen easily dissolved into crystalline nothingness, confidence oozing from every motion.

That is, until his other self punched him in the face.

Stephen backed up in surprise, holding his aching jaw.

His other self smiled grimly, panting with exertion.

“You’ll never have Tony.”

Stephen could practically feel his heart burst into flames. He got to his feet, wiping away the blood from his lip, eyes flashing with the volatility of an electrical storm. The smile fell from his other’s eyes.

“Alright,” he spat. “Playtime’s over. No more games.”

He lunged forwards, red runes winding down his arms and up to his fingertips. He picked his other self up by the collar and slammed him into the ground, a sickly crunch echoing through the halls. His doppelganger let out a broken cry and Stephen grinned. One last step and he could finally rid himself of this nuisance.

He pressed two fingers to the other’s forehead, and closed his eyes, expelling both their astral forms and switching their consciences.

After all, there were differences between them, an not just mental ones. Their vessels were different. Subtly, but still noticeable. And if he wanted his plan to work, he needed to be the exact same Stephen from this universe. He needed this Stephen’s body.

He opened his new eyes and grinned, sending a quick flash of golden magic up to heal his broken arm, standing and watching as the man before him, form incomprehensibly familiar, floundered around in panic. Stephen flexed his hands and stretched. It was strange, being in a new body, almost the same but not quite. He didn’t have his dark magic. Or half as many scars. But no matter. Those were just material concepts. Well, most of them at least.

He clenched his trembling hands, feeling young muscles flex in ways he hadn’t felt in years. This version of himself had to be younger than him by five years, at least.

“Oh, now this is nice. A little tense around the shoulders, but nice. We always did enjoy taking care of ourselves, didn’t we?” he murmured.

  
“What did you do to me?” his former self demanded, the webs of darkness curling around his eyes stark against pale skin. The man began to pull himself to his feet, but Stephen kicked him in the chest, pushing him back down to the ground.

Stephen grinned. “Well, I was in need of a little change, gorgeous, and what better to do so with than a vessel? Fear not. I won’t keep you here, too. After all, Tony can only have one of us.”

His other self’s eyes widened. So uncanny, seeing another man with his face and clothes. Stephen loved it.

He flicked his wrist and pulled the mirror he’d come through close, golden sparks bouncing off the liquefying surface of the portal back to the multiverse he’d come for. This universe was for his happy ending, not the sad, pathetic version of himself on his knees.

He knelt down, cupping his doppelgangers face gently. He ran a soft thumb across the high cheekbones, tenderness radiating from every action.

“Oh don’t worry, love. It’s not all bad. You’ll be all alone over there. Just like you were here.”

And with those final words, he pushed himself into the portal and sealed the gateway forever.


	2. Scared I'll Die of Uncertainty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Good Tony and Stephen finally meet! Yay! Also, some backstory into Stephen's life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING- unconsensual branding (yikes) If you want to skip it, stop when Evil Tony pushes Stephen back against the mirror and skip until the end of the section

The first thing Stephen did after getting rid of his former self was find Wong and lock him in a pocket dimension. The man was ridiculously easy to find and subdue. In the end, if the Sanctum truly had been under attack, New York would have been doomed. The second of the two defenders was sitting in the library with his headphones in, just as the other Stephen had predicted. Disarming and portaling him away was practically childsplay.

After that, Stephen was left alone in the blissful quiet of the Sanctum Sanctorum. Apparently this version of him didn’t have any sorcerous acolytes and the spider child was nowhere to be seen. That came as a bit of a relief, to be honest. As much as he longed to see Peter again, he needed to polish his plan first, an act far easier in the secrecy of solitude.

Stephen let out a long sigh, easing himself into an armchair, a first aid kit balanced in his arms. Unfortunately, he had been somewhat rough with his alternate self. A visage that would be helpful in the future, but for now, in the infinitesimal fleeting seconds of the present, in short, hurt like hell. His shaking hands taped small bandages over some of the more pressing cuts, but for the most part he left himself open. The blood glittering against his skin was such a strange contrast, crimson fire stark against the pale ivory of his skin.

He still had doubts about this body. It was his, yet it was still different. It lacked his scars, his experience, his… claims. Stephen’s heart dipped and his hand ghosted over the area right above his heart. But now was not the time for memory. Now was the time for action.

Finally, after swallowing an ample amount of aspirin tablets, he stood, back cracking in protest. There were just a few more things he needed to take care of before he carried on with the main event of his plan, and both promised fun.

The first, he decided, as he stumbled into his bedroom, was a makeover. He still didn’t know a lot about the Stephen from this universe, but one fact he was certain of was that the man was not known for his sense of style. Basic blue robes and approximately ten million belts? No thank you. If he wanted to woo the love of his life he was going to need more flair. Tony Stark was many things, but unfashionable was not one of them.

Unfortunately, as Stephen discovered upon opening the sorcerer’s wardrobe, that the rest of the man’s clothes were of a similar caliber. All the robes he owned were the same five colors: blue, grey, green, another shade of grey, and beige. His street clothes weren’t much better. Vertical pinstripes? Blue scarves? Really? Stephen wanted nothing more than to burn the whole closet down, but he could take care of that later. For now he would just magic himself some better clothes. A tricky spell, but well worth it.

He stepped in front of the bedroom mirror, looking himself up and down.

The first thing to go would be the belts. They were heavy, cumbersome, and honestly quite useless. Not to mention inevitably annoying during sex. No. A simple red sash would do. And for his pants… Latex would be too much too soon, wouldn’t it? A shame. His ass looked amazing in latex. Leather would have to do for now. Ooh! And knee high boots! With wedges.

Stephen grinned and waved his hand, watching as his outfit shifted. Perfect.

Just one final touch and it would be perfect. He’d had a jacket back in his old universe, a black one with red and gold detailing. It had stopped at the top of his waist and split into a sort of parted robe, crimson silk-lined fabric flowing behind him like death on his pale horse.

He waved his hand and his outfit shifted once more. He adjusted the amulet and settled the cloak around his shoulders, giving himself once last once-over. A tiny nervous flame licked at his insides, heat only growing as he scanned his appearance. What if Tony didn’t like him? What if the destiny of this universe was fixed and no matter what he did, he wouldn’t be able to untie the bonds of fate?

Well, his Tony had always loved seeing him in red in gold. Loved the mark of ownership it displayed. Hopefully the same held true for this Tony as well. Stephen closed his eyes. He could practically smell Tony’s cologne, feel the gentle hands ghosting over his body.

“There you go, baby,” a voice, softer than the starless sea, whispered.

Stephen shivered. A pair of warm arms wrapped around his torso, running up and down the cool silk and leather of Stephen’s outfit. He opened his eyes, the gold clasps of his jacket glittering in the low light of the candles. When Tony had told him he wanted an evening in this hadn’t been exactly what he had in mind, but now, standing before the mirror clothed in the richest shades of red and gold and midnight black, he couldn’t bring himself to regret a thing.

“You look so perfect, so beautiful, in my colors. Now everyone will know exactly who you belong to,” Tony breathed.

Stephen’s heart stuttered and hastened, beats as strong as they were erratic. He leaned back into Tony’s touch, a throaty moan breaching his lips as Tony pressed his lips to Stephen’s pale neck. Tony’s warmth spread from the site of each kiss, washing over Stephen in uneven waves. It was intoxicating. Stephen wanted more.

“I’m yours,” he muttered, bowing his head. The flickering candlelight tangled in his hair, sending glints of gold fracturing across the thin streaks silver that framed his face. “I belong to you, my love.”

Tony smiled, shadows deepening the warmth of his eyes into the endless darkness of the smoky night sky above the mountains.

“I know.”

Stephen let out a dreamy sigh. Tony was so so warm against him and the sweet scent of the candle filled the air with sleep. He felt so relaxed. So safe. So warm. Tony’s hand found his and Stephen intertwined their fingers, watching lazily as Tony absentmindedly traced the worn scars on the back of his hands, raised marks laced with the dimly pulsing red runes of chaos. Nothing could break this moment, this perfect haze between them.

“I have one more thing for you, my angel.”

Stephen felt a lazy smile grow on his face. What could it be? Jewelry? A ring? A necklace? Maybe it was a choker. Oh he hoped it was a choker. He adored chokers.

“Anything for you, love.”

Tony smiled, slipping before him, meticulous fingers trailing across his chest and tracing praise over his skin as he gently unbuttoned Stephen’s jacket and pushed aside the red robe underneath to reveal his delicate collar bone and then the sharp planes of his chest. Tony paused, drinking in the sight of Stephen, open and vulnerable before him.

Stephen smiled, opening his arms in invitation. He laced his arms around Tony’s neck and pulled him close, tangling his shaking hands in his beloved’s short, soft hair. Tony leaned forward and kissed him, slow and sweet and oh so warmly. Stephen felt all the tension left in his body drain in the same way the mountain mists hovering above a river like the ghost of history melt away as the sun rises lavender and lemon over the snowy peaks of the horizon.

Tony pushed him backwards and Stephen melted, stumbling blindly until his back hit the mirror, and he surrendered completely to Tony’s warm touch.

They broke apart, panting gently. Stephen smiled, cheeks flushed the colors of rose hips in the New Hampshire fall.

“I love you,” he breathed. “I love you so much.”

Tony’s eyes flashed in the flickering light of the candle.

“I know.”

He leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to the apex of Stephen’s collarbone. Stephen shivered, smiling softly as Tony ran his hands over the unblemished expanse of Stephen’s chest. Tony’s hands wrapped around his wrists, trapping them just above his head. He trailed kisses up and down Stephen’s neck, muttering words of fanciful devotion against his fragile skin.

Stephen let out a long, slow, sigh, and yielded to Tony’s delicate ministrations, willingly submitting himself fully and completely to his love. It was so easy to lose himself in Tony’s touch, so easy to just relax and let Tony take over, to let Tony take him.

He let out a long moan as Tony’s hands drifted lower and lower. Then Tony pulled away, and Stephen’s bare skin was met with nothing but air. A needy, high pitched whine caught in his throat as he reached for Tony once more, swaying gently in place. Tony just smiled down at him, eyes darker than the inky depths of the ocean.

“Tony…” he keened, aching for the other man’s touch. Tony stepped closer. Closer, but still too damn far away.

“Patience, beloved. Don’t you want your present?” he purred, cupping Stephen’s jaw gently in his hands.

“Oh God…”

Tony smiled as Stephen melted into his touch, pupils dilated until only the thinnest band of grey-green was visible.

“After this you’ll be mine,” Tony continued. Stephen shivered at his words. “All mine. I’m going to mark you; cover you in testaments to my love until everyone will see exactly who you belong to. I’ll make you mine, and mine alone.”

“I’m already yours,” Stephen breathed, devotion dripping like gold from every word. “But show me again. Claim me. Mark me. Make me yours forever. Forever and always.”

Tony smiled, lips twisting and glinting like jagged glass in the low light. He leaned forwards once more, kissing Stephen’s neck, hands fluttering across Tony’s chest. Stephen felt his excitement grow with each rush of heat. What was it going to be? Hickies? Fun, but what Tony had planned sounded more permanent. Part of him still hoped it was a choker. A dark band stark against the pale skin of his neck, showing everyone just who he belonged to.

“Enough foreplay, Angel. Are you ready?” Tony asked, voice hoarse and rough with anticipation.

Stephen nodded, unable to keep himself from smiling in excitement. He trusted Tony. Whatever they were going to do he was sure he’d love.

Tony stepped back and tapped his chest, a flood of nanites spreading out in metallic waves to cover his right arm. Stephen licked his lips. Was Tony going to disconnect some of the nanites from his suit? What would they form? A bracelet? A collar of nanites? He shivered at the thought. A band of living iron tight around his throat, red and gold bonds that only Tony could remove. He let out a low groan and instinctively ground into Tony’s hip, begging for the genius’s gentle touch. Tony flashed him a coy smile in response.

“Someone’s excited. Patience, pet. It’s not ready yet.”

Stephen watched as Tony frowned in concentration. The nanites on his fingers twisted outwards, forming two raised shapes, one symmetrically curved and one geometric in essence. Letters. TS.

Stephen frowned. What was that for?

Then the two letters glowed bright blue with heat and Stephen’s mouth dropped open, eyes widening in fear. He pulled himself away from Tony and stumbled backwards, slamming into the mirror so hard his head spun. Tony smiled reassuringly at him. His eyes were filled with a viscous glee Stephen had never seen before.

“Tony- Tony wait!”

“Oh Angel, don’t worry. You’ll barely feel a thing.” He ran his free hand down Stephen’s trembling face, brushing a thumb over Stephen’s parted lips. “Besides, I thought you wanted to be mine?”

Stephen pushed Tony’s hand away, shaking his head vigorously. Tony’s eyes darkened like the silent second before thunder split the sky apart.

“No! No Tony please, I can’t-”

Tony’s hand wrapped around his wrists once more, fingernails digging roughly into his fragile skin. He pushed back, trying to shove Tony’s hands off of him. Tony’s eyes flashed dangerously and he grit his teeth, shoving Stephen backwards into the mirror. Stephen cried out in pain, voice desperate and raw. Tony grabbed his hair and slammed his head back against the mirror. Stephen’s vision spun.

“Stay fucking still!”

Stephen shuddered, but stopped fighting, instead wrapping his quivering fingers desperately around Tony’s, wide eyes pleading up at his love.

“Tony, Tony please I don’t want to-”

Tony slammed his free hand over Stephen’s mouth and pressed the glowing letters into his skin, directly above his heart.

The pain was indescribable. A wave of heat rushed over him, so intense it felt like every inch of his body was burning up with fever. Then brunt of the pain hit. The feeling of his skin melting backwards into his flesh, heating and boiling until it felt like every nerve was splitting, carefully spliced apart under the delicate, meticulous scalpel of a surgeon. The feeling of his entire body screaming and rioting in protest, muscles spasming as he writhed in Tony’s grip, the other man letting go of his mouth to hold him fast. The feeling of his vocal chords tearing as his pain tried to manifest its terrible form, clawing out of his throat and slicing apart the delicate flesh of his trachea.

Tears streamed down his face, hot and cold all at once, as he clung to Tony, the one lifeline he had. He grit his teeth and bit his tongue until it bled, trying to fight through the pain blinding his brain until he was numb to the soundless world around him, only agony ringing in his ears.

Then Tony leaned close with a wicked smile, pressing the brand further into his skin. His breath was cool on Stephen’s feverish skin.

“Who do you belong to,” he crooned, voice just as soft and delicate as before.

“I-I-” Another agonizing wave of pain washed over him and he cried out, any semblance of words washed out by the white-hot flash of anguish. His veins had turned to fire, blood burning as cold as lava.

“Who do you belong to,” Tony hissed again and Stephen flinched. “Say it and this all ends.”

Stephen grit his teeth, forcing the words out past his torn vocal chords and bloody mouth, digging back into the deepest, coldest recesses of his mind untouched by pain to design any semblance of a response. One word would end it all. Yet that word had never been so hard to say. Funny how one’s greatest talents always abandoned you in the times you needed them most.

“Y-You,” he choked out, blood dribbling from his lips.

Tony smiled and pulled away, bringing the brand with him. He tapped his arc reactor once more and the nanites retreated.

Stephen’s legs collapsed and he fell to the floor, chest shaking with an amalgamation of sobs, pants, and convulsions. His muscles still spasmed, nerves white-hot with the aftermath of the pain. He couldn’t think. It was like he was watching everything through a blurry lens, the world tinney and grey around him. He was going into shock. How funny. A frenzied giggle rose in his throat, past his decimated vocal chords and between his trembling, bloody lips.

All he could feel was pain. Pain so sharp it seemed to manifest itself across all the planes of his mind and reality.

He looked down, head spinning. There, emblazoned upon the left side of his chest, directly above his heart, were the two letters. The flesh was red and cauterized, oozing not rivlets of blood, but excess plasma and pain. His skin was twisted and blistered, indentations like uniform trenches, so delicate and precise yet so painful. Pain emanated from the marks like radiation from a fallout zone, spreading across his body until each and every one of his cells was numb and pain surrounded him in fog.

He shuddered, looking up at Tony with pleading blue eyes, bloodied, beautiful lips forming soundless pleas for help. Tony smiled delicately and knelt down, pressing a gentle kiss to Stephen’s forehead. He brushed away a few stray locks of hair from Stephen’s sweaty forehead.

“Oh Angel you did so well. You’re so beautiful like this. All vulnerable. All mine.”

“T-Tony-” Stephen choked out.

“So perfect. So beautiful, just for me. Can’t wait to fuck you, darling. Can’t wait until you’re crying out my name, can’t wait to see you bear my marks forever.”

“H-help me…”

Tony’s warm mahogany eyes hardened and he stood, easily ignoring the trembling hand Stephen raised in one last desperate attempt for comfort.

“You’re a doctor. You can take care of it yourself. Now go clean up and meet me in the bedroom in thirty minutes. We’re not finished yet.”

And with those words he blew out the candle and turned on the lights. Stephen flinched and let out a soft cry, barely able to move. He watched as Tony walked away, leaving Stephen a shaking, crying, puddle of blood and tears and burns curled up at the base of the mirror, mind shattered like glass.

Stephen’s hand drifted over his heart and a pang of sadness rushed through him. The mark was gone. He looked back at his reflection, deep blue-green eyes more tumultuous and grave than the Atlantic ocean. His form was so similar, yet so different. His vessel may have looked the same but it lacked the marks, the experiences that had shaped his whole world.

But worldly materials were nothing in comparison to those of the spirit. He had learned that a long time ago when fate had found him the halls of Karmartaj. It was no matter, he told himself. Just a few trivial marks erased from the canvas of his body. He belonged to Tony in a way far deeper than any physical bindings could express. He loved the man more than the world could contain in it’s lonely, secluded mind. More than the flowery boundaries of death could divide. And now he would find his love once more. Find him and coax his darling back to the dark, intoxicating world to which they belonged. He had a foolproof plan and a kickass new outfit. It was time to move onto phase two.

He took a deep breath and turned to the window, watching the world pass by below. The sun was setting, blanketing the bright lights of New York in a hazy violet dust. He ran his hand over his heart once more and smiled softly. The city looked so beautiful. He couldn’t wait to watch it burn.

His alternate self, Stephen decided, had a terrible taste in music. 80’s pop? Billy Joel? The Beatles? Greatest Violin Hits of All Time? He could hardly believe himself. This was ridiculous. He tossed the CD’s aside and grabbed the phone he’d found charging next to the bed. He opened it- mentally thanking Apple for facial recognition- and opened up Spotify.

He hummed softly as he scrolled through dozens of albums. He didn’t really need music for the next part of his plan, but destruction was always so much more satisfying with a killer soundtrack. He continued scrolling, pausing briefly on Bohemian Rhapsody, before stopping with a dazzling grin sharp enough to cut glass. AC/DC. How fitting. He was back in black and about the furthest away from a stairway to heaven.

He placed the phone on a table and turned back to the wall of weapons. Now what should he use for the final show? The Axe of Angarruumus? The Dragonbane Sword? He scanned the racks and his eyes landed on the perfect object. Those weapons were fancy and all, but in the end nothing was better than a good old fashioned baseball bat.

He pulled the bat from the wall with a grin and tossed it back and forth in his hands. Perfect. He pressed play on his phone, turning back to the room, filled to the brim with glass cases and fancy artifacts as the familiar guitar chords fired up. He twirled the bat in his hands, the top glowing gold with artificial power. He strode forwards, bobbing his head in time with the music and with one, heady swing, shattered a glass case holding a priceless vase thousands of years old. Pieces of pottery rained to the floor amidst the shower of glass shards, and Stephen smiled, a rush of adrenaline and pure, child-like joy filling him from head to toe. He grinned and rounded on a tower of metal pins, relishing the beautiful cascade of annihilation. He let out a loud, untethered laugh, the sound musical amid the cacophony of tinkling glass and guitar chords.

Goodbye Orb of Agamotto, hasta ya later Book of Vishanti. Now that was a home run! Honestly, they were useful trinkets, yet so utterly removed from his plan. So unnecessary. Besides, weren’t the mystic arts all about letting go of the physical to embrace the spiritual? So why not let go of all these material artifacts in his quest for love, the most spiritual force there was? He let out a giggle as glass rained down around him. He adored large scale chaos, but sometimes it was nice just to indulge in the bliss of basic destruction.

Every case was cracked and shattered, each artifact, no matter how powerful or how basic, meeting the business end of Stephen’s untethered id. He pulled books from the shelves and tore tapestries from the walls, relishing the carnage that danced around him. Glass cut his cheeks and his arms grew sore from swinging, but still he pushed on until every inch of the Sanctum was covered in delicious chaos.

It wasn’t like any of it mattered anyways, Stephen mused, sipping tea as he looked out over the ocean of destruction laid out before him like the fragile beauty of snowy mountains and white pines. He wasn’t going to stay here long. And why not have a little fun before he left? His endgame was destruction to begin with. He had to start somewhere.

He finished his tea and stood with a sigh, chucking his tea cup behind him. A delightful smash echoed up and he smiled, the shards of flowery fractured porcelain the perfect allusion to his mind.

He had finished his work in the Sanctum. And in perfect timing, too. It was just about nine. The perfect time to commence part three of his plan.

The hardest part had been figuring out where Tony would be, but after a quick poke around in his astral form he found the imprint of Tony’s soul, a deep red aura with tiny flecks of gold, in the living room of the Avengers compound. An easy target.

Stephen took a few deep breaths, trying to shake off his nerves. Time to get his game face on. He took one last deep breath. He was going to see Tony again. He was going to see the love of his life. And everything was going to be okay. With one last deep breath he pulled out his sling ring and created a purposefully shaky portal into the Avengers Compound’s living room.

He stumbled through, painting his face with terror and pain. The two people in the room, Rhodey and Tony, both looked up in shock as he collapsed forwards into Tony’s arms, gasping for breath. He clung to Tony, burying his face in the genius’s neck and making sure to grind his knee up between Tony’s legs. Tony let out a small yelp and his cheeks flushed bright red.

“Woah there, doc! You okay?” Tony sputtered.

Stephen looked up and fell in love with Tony Stark all over again.

He was beautiful. Just as beautiful as before, but something about this Tony was different. It was like the very air around him was softer, more vulnerable. His eyes, his beautiful eyes of a thousand kaleidoscopic shades of brown and umber and teak and koa, still bore a thousand years of sadness and pain. But the aura that surrounded him lacked the antipathy, the anger, that had pulled and torn at his Tony’s soul until he had broken under the pressure, cracking and reforming, titanium in place of glass. While his Tony was a rose made of barbed wire twisted and forged by cruelty and spite, this Tony was cut diamonds bound by gold.

He was perfect. He was _ good _.

Stephen’s mouth fell open and he couldn’t help but stare. It was like looking an angel in the eyes. Brilliant. Devastating. Ethereal.

Tony helped him over to a couch, running a feather-light hand over the wound on Stephen’s cheek, blood tacky and thick. Stephen unintentionally leaned into his touch, eyes drifting in and out of focus. He coughed wetly, feigning exhaustion.

“Rhodey- grab him a glass of water. I’ll bandage him up,” Tony said. His voice sounded like the first cool breeze of October, when the skies are a crisp clear blue and the leaves the golden-orange of autumn.

“Thank you, Tony.”

“No problem, doc.”

“So what happened?” Tony finished the last bandage and set down the med kit, taking a seat next to Stephen on the couch. Rhodey handed Stephen a cup of tea and sat across from them.

“I’m sorry for the… unexpected intrusion. There was a fight at the Sanctum. A rival cult attempted to steal a number of precious artifacts, including the Wand of Watoomb. We won, but I was hurt and drained from the fight. I needed help and I didn’t have anywhere else to go,” he lied, words flowing off his tongue with the utmost of ease.

“Well don’t worry,” Rhodey said. “We’re glad we could help.”

Stephen fiddled with the handle of his cup, trying to look bashful.

“Well if that’s the case, I don’t suppose I could impose upon your hospitality just a little more? The Sanctum was extensively damaged during the fight. Wong said he can fix it, but it’s going to take quite a while. I know you house some of the other Avengers here. Is it possible that I could stay as well? That is, if you have enough room.”

“Of course!” Tony said, grinning. “Stay as long as you want! Honestly I’m surprised. I thought you lived on top of a mountain, or in a cave made of crystals or something.”

Stephen cracked a smile. “I’m a sorcerer, not a hermit, Mr. Stark.”

“Please. It’s Tony.”

Tony showed him to his room soon after, insisting that he let the genius know if anything was even the tiniest bit unsatisfactory. Honestly, Stephen couldn’t care less. He needed to understand this multiverse before he began to play. That’s why he had kept the conversation to the bare minimum out there, trying to replicate what the other Stephen had seemed like. Formal and reserved. Not exactly his style, but manageable to start with.

But what was much more important than any of that was Tony. Seeing the man again- it evoked a deep mixture of joy so high and remorse so deep all he could do was stare. He wanted to kiss him, hold him, just feel that he was still there. A pang of sadness shot through him. He really missed his love. And even if he did view this as a do-over, there were still memories that were lost between them. Memories that had built the love Stephen was so determined to protect.

But there would be new ones, right? All he had to do was corrupt Tony’s soul. Turn him away from the side of the angels and pull him into the beautiful, dark depths of chaos. Convince him to succumb to the years and years of spite and resentment Stephen knew had been building deep within his mind, covered by the fragile excuses of goodwill and hope.

Stephen let out a long sigh and flopped back onto the bed, rubbing his eyes. He still couldn’t believe it. Everything that had happened today, well, all of it- the multiversal interloping, the fight with himself, the destruction of the Sanctum- it all paled in comparison to the ten minutes he had spent with the love of his life. The most crucial point was that he had seen Tony. But more importantly, he had seen Tony’s soul. Seen how good it was. And if that held true… well this was going to be a lot more difficult than Stephen thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the wonderful comments! I really appreciate know what you guys think about this! I haven't really written a long fanfic in a while, so all suggestions are appreciated!
> 
> Title is lyrics from Doubt by Twenty One Pilots


	3. The Wrong Place for Redemption

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stephen cooks breakfast for Tony and the two of them get to know each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all need to stop worrying about good Stephen. He's like, not really a super big part of this so...  
Also this chapter's kinda shit because I wrote it late last night and I'm too tired to shape it up, so sorry if it's a bit dry.

Stephen woke the next morning to sore muscles and the sound of a door closing in the hallway. He sat up and stretched, yawning as the fog of sleep faded from his mind. He had been dreaming… something about the past, something about the future- they were one in the same after all. Infinitely similar concepts that were both equally out of reach. He cracked his neck and stood up from the bed with a groan, already missing the warmth of the silky sheets. But he needed to get up early, well, at least earlier than Tony, to begin his plan for the day. He needed to gain Tony’s trust. Only then could he twist that wonderfully good spirit into the temptation of pleasure and pain. And what better way to earn one’s trust than through food and conversation?

Stephen quickly brushed his teeth and ran a brush through his hair before waving his hands and shifting into his new clothes. He stepped out into the hallway, cloak swishing behind him as he walked. He could hear the shower in the next room- in  _ Tony’s  _ room- running. His Tony had always taken dreadfully long showers (both when Stephen joined him and when he didn’t) and if this Tony was anything like his that meant he would be in the bathroom for upwards of thirty minutes. The perfect amount of time for Stephen to start his plan.

Granted, his plan wasn’t anything nefarious, just cooking a nice breakfast for the genius. But if his Tony had a weak spot, it was food. Well, maybe food wasn’t the whole truth.

They had had a fight yesterday. Something dumb, surely. Stephen could barely even remember what it was about- the origin of the storm buried deep under the tsunami of yelling and screaming that had followed. It was days like this that Stephen was happy Peter had friends houses that he could sleep over. God they had been so cruel, hurling insult after insult with no disregard for the impact of every word. Stephen still hurt from it, unable to shake the contemptuous slander of the night from his mind. After so long on the sweet side of Tony’s praise and adoration he had forgotten how sharp and vicious his lover could be. He shuddered, a memory of those eyes- those beautiful brown eyes usually filled to the brim with intellect and wit, so jagged and cruel and heartless shining in the dim fluorescent of the city lights.

_ You’re useless. Weak. Pathetic. Worthless. A disappointment. You’re lucky you’re so pretty. I’m certainly not keeping you around for your mind. _

Stephen shuddered. Those had been the lightest of them. He closed his eyes, trying to find his way back to the days before the fight. The past always seemed so perfect, pastel days stained with the petals of flowers and the filter of laughter. Everything was perfect. So warm, so happy, so safe. Now- well… Stephen clenched his jaw, trying to stop the tears welling in his eyes. Every minute was cold and dark and lonely. So separate from how things used to be. So vastly different from the days where all they had to worry about was their battle against the universe. It was times like these that Stephen was reminded of just how strong Tony’s hatred for the world was. How sometimes it leached into his relationships with the people around him. Into his relationships with his allies. With Stephen.

But it wasn’t Tony’s fault that he was like that. The world had pushed and pulled and taken from him until all he was left with was a broken mind and fractured soul used and dirtied by others that it was barely his anymore. Tony’s anger was justified, whether it was aimed at Stephen or at the world. Stephen deserved it. It was his job to steer Tony afterall, to watch over the genius and aid him in whatever he needed. His place was in Tony’s shadow, whispering sweet words of chaos in the mad king’s ear as their power washed over the universe.

But the past was still so sweet… days of sunshine and soft kisses and hints of light playing off smooth strong muscle in a dimly lit room, the world quieting just to eavesdrop on their gentle moans. The very air around them a sultry dust of pastels as they stormed through life hand in hand and chaos blossomed in their wake.

It was okay. He was sure it would be just like that soon. They were just going through a rough patch, that was all. Their love could push past a tiny argument, right? That was why he was making breakfast after all wasn’t it? So he could beg for Tony’s forgiveness? Everything would be fine. He was sure of it.

The fight had been his fault, really. He still couldn’t remember how it had started, but he was sure it had been him. A trivial complaint, or a sarcastic remark gone too far. It was all his fault. If Tony left him… well, who could Stephen blame but himself? Tony was perfect. Stephen was lucky to have him. But at this point… after all they’d been through together, Stephen couldn’t even imagine life without Tony. He didn’t think he could live without waking up every morning to those beautiful, fiery eyes, or go to sleep at night without those warm arms wrapped securely around his torso. Tony was the only thing he was living for, and without that…

Stephen sniffled and tried to focus on flipping the pancakes.

He was useless without Tony. He needed him to survive. He had two paths to his endgame- one where he stood beside Tony as they watched reality crumble around their intertwined figures or one that ended in darkness and glass and falling for Tony one last time. Both were endings. It was just a matter of how the future unfolded. It was just a matter of time.

The sound of padded footsteps pulled him from the increasingly suffocating thoughts like the wreckage of a ship being pulled from the ocean. Stephen looked up. It was Tony. He was still clad in his pajamas- sweatpants and a T-shirt- hair messy from sleep. His head was framed by the early morning sun rising over the city, so similar to the broken halo of a crippled angel. His eyes shone in the warm lights of the kitchen and his lips were flushed a beautiful shade of raspberry. He was breathtaking. He was god-like.

But those eyes… those beautiful, sublime, celestial,  _ exquisite _ eyes that always shone with the sexiest shade of revenge- those eyes Stephen could stare into for hours on end and still want more- they lacked their usual fire, their usual passion. They were cold and blank, unseeing and empty. Where Stephen could usually read his love’s emotions like the gold inscriptions on the concept of time, all he found was darkness and ice.

Tony cocked his head, eyes flickering over the kitchen, surveying the scene.

“Stephen, babe, what’s all this?”

“I-I made you breakfast!” Stephen stammered, gesturing to the pancakes with a nervous smile. “I felt horrible about yesterday, so I thought I’d make you some pancakes.” He paused, staring up at Tony with pleading, fearful eyes. “Do- do you like it?”

There were a few seconds of tense, charged silence, then a soft smile spread across Tony’s face in the same way the sun seems to rise above the horizon- a little, then all at once.

“Oh baby, you did this all for me?”

Stephen let out a long sigh of relief. Tony melted and rushed forwards, wrapping his arms around Stephen and pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. Stephen relaxed into his touch, warmth radiating from the kiss. Tony’s eyes- one second ago cold and dark- were now bright and happy, almost overflowing with joy. The change was so sudden- like the entire storm-filled, icy world had flipped and inverted until it was like the clouds had never even been there. And honestly, it kind of unnerved Stephen. He was still so scared Tony was mad at him. Tony smiled and leaned forward to take a bite of the pancakes. His eyes lit up with joy.

“This is incredible!” he cried, snuggling closer to Stephen, who smiled nervously and wrapped a gentle arm around his love. Tony beamed at him. “Oh God you’re amazing. What did I ever do to deserve you?”

Stephen smiled softly, heart melting all over again as he watched Tony shove another massive bite of pancake in his mouth. Nothing. He had done nothing. Stephen was the one who didn’t deserve  _ him _ .

They ate together and watched the sun rise gold and red over the glittering glass of the Manhattan skyline. Tony was the sunshine and rainbows that followed a storm, the warm air and cool breezes followed by blue skies and green grass, but Stephen couldn’t look past last night’s clouds. The ice that had covered each weaponized word until even the slightest of insults was sharp and cold and deadly. But maybe he was wrong. Maybe it  _ was  _ just a little spat. Maybe none of the things they had said actually mattered. Stephen just needed to let it go. Tony already had, after all.

“Oh! Love, I…” Stephen trailed off, losing himself in that little slice of time. Tony looked up at him with eyes of honey and amber and gold and Stephen almost forgot what he was saying. Tony always had an indescribable gravitational pull to him, like he was a sun or a star or a black hole and Stephen was nothing but a tiny planet, torn into orbit, helpless and insignificant in comparison as he spun around a mind of ice and majesty.

“Yeah?”

Stephen shook himself out of his daze. “I think I may have figured out a way to help our plan. I’ve been dabbling in chaos magic, and I think I’ve created a spell to help me transcend the spiritual barrier between life and the fabric of the universe. There’s always been a barrier, a kind of protective seal around it keeping me out but I think I’ve found a way to get past it.”

“That’s great babe!” Tony paused, a guilty smile flickering across his face. “Uh, what exactly does that mean again?”

“It means that if we wanted, I could tear reality apart at the seams. The fabric of the universe is what dictates and controls our world and our dimensions. It holds reality together. And now, because I can get to it, I can rip it apart or corrupt it or do whatever the hell I want. Nothing, not even the Book of Vishanti, could stop me.” He smiled, squeezing Tony’s hand despite the lines of pain that shot through his fingers. “You wanted chaos, love. You wanted to see the world torn apart at its very seams, to watch as dischord and death dripped from every transcendental wound and the city around us fell and we ruled our earthly Pandemonium. And now that I’ve found away I promise I’ll destroy the world, just for you my love,” Stephen vowed, watching as Tony’s eyes dilated with every word.

“God you’re incredible,” Tony breathed, hands tracing circles over Stephen’s chest. His fingers brushed over the place his initials stood stark against Stephen’s chest and Stephen shivered, a soft moan rising to his lips. God he loved it when Tony did that.

“Tony…” he murmured, voice softer than the velvet petals of white lilies.

“Oh! I almost forgot!”

Then Tony was gone, leaving nothing but air in place of traces of warmth. Stephen’s heart dropped and he watched as Tony rummaged around on the counter. Sometimes he forgot just how quickly Tony’s mind moved, how much it pained him to slow down. If Stephen was a planet plummeting through orbit, Tony’s star was spinning around itself, faster and hotter than anyone could keep up with.

Tony reappeared with a tiny navy box wrapped in gold ribbon in his hands. He placed the box on the counter and slid it over to Stephen, eyes eager and excited.

“I got you something,” he said. Stephen opened his mouth to refuse but Tony shot him down with a look, pushing the box further across the counter. “No protests. I felt bad about last night, so, well, I just hope this makes up for it.”

Stephen carefully untied the bow with shaking hands, silk smooth and soft against his scarred hands. The creamy gold bow fell away and Stephen opened the box. Inside, like the two divisions of saturn’s rings, were two beautiful bracelets of navy and burgundy. Stephen couldn’t quite figure out what they were made of. They seemed to glimmer like burnished metal and shine like jewels all at the same time. Stephen ran a trembling hand over the surface of the bracelets and tiny glowing red runes faded into existence, softly pulsing against the background of color. Stephen looked up at Tony with adoration in his eyes.

“They’re beautiful! What do they do?” he asked.

Tony smiled and picked the red one up, slipping it onto Stephen’s thin wrist. It fit perfectly, like the metal had been molded perfectly to his form. It glittered like the blood of the sun rising over a misty lake- faded and vibrant all at once. Tony clasped the matching navy band around his wrist and Stephen jumped.

There, beating firmly against his pulse like the rhythmic waves of the ocean, was a heartbeat.  _ Tony’s  _ heartbeat. Stephen felt his own heart beat faster at the sensation- so foreign yet so reassuring- and he could feel Tony’s quicken in time. He turned to Tony with tears in his eyes, unsure of how to tell the other man just how much he loved him.

“So what do you think? I worked out the whole heartbeat thing, but one of your friends- the crackly eye dude, Motor or something-”

“Mordo.”

“Yeah! Him! He helped me add a little enchantment. Now, if you tap your bracelet three times and think my name I’ll hear it and come to you, no matter what!”

“Tony…” Stephen dabbed his eyes with the corner of his sweatshirt sleeve, trying hard to force the growing lump in his throat down. He didn’t deserve Tony’s love. “This is incredible! I don’t know what to say,” he choked out.

Tony smiled softly and took Stephen’s shaking hands, his eyes, flecks gold embedded in amber and honey, wide and earnest.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Tony murmured. “You’re my baby. I care about you and I want to show it. I want to show the world just how much we belong to each other.”

Stephen sniffled, trying his best to keep his tears at bay and failing miserably.

“Thank you. You’re amazing Tony. I love you so much,” he mumbled.

Tony smiled, dark eyes glittering with heat.

“I know.”

Stephen absentmindedly ran a scarred hand over the smooth face of the bracelet. He had made sure to bring it with him through the portal, even if it’s stillness unnerved him. It had been years since Tony had given it to him, and in that time the ever steady rhythm of his love’s heartbeat had soothed his nerves in the best of times and grounded him in the worst. Now, to have it silent- well, it felt like Stephen had lost a piece of himself.

The sound of footsteps echoed down the hall, an eerie mirror to Stephen’s past. Stephen looked up to find the delicious sight of a still sleepy Tony Stark wrapped only in a towel, hair still wet and disheveled from the shower. Stephen licked his lips.

“Stephen what’s going on? What are you doing?” Tony asked, face a beautiful shade of shock. Stephen smiled over at Tony and stretched languidly, continuing to mind the pan.

“Well, I heard you get up, and you were taking  _ forever  _ in the shower, so I decided to make us some breakfast.” He gestured towards the plate of already finished food. “Care for a pancake?” Tony looked at him with wide eyes.

“Are you kidding me? I’m not even dressed,” Tony said, clutching the towel closer.

“I can see.” Stephen let his eyes roam over Tony’s bare chest and he licked his lips. “I don’t mind. Kept things up beautifully now, haven’t you?”

Tony’s mouth fell open.

“I can’t believe you.”

Stephen flashed him a cocky smile. “Well you’d better. Now sit down. I know you haven’t eaten since God knows when.” Tony’s expression softened.

“Alright. Just let me get dressed,” Tony said, turning back to the door.

“A shame. Loving the view though!” he called after the genius. He smiled as a surprised snicker echoed back from the hall.

“Wow, these are incredible,” Tony exclaimed, mouth full. “What’s in them?”

“Oh you know, some almond milk, lemon juice, chestnut flour, a little pinch of cosmic cocaine…”

Tony spat out his food.

“ _ What _ ?!”

Stephen giggled at the incredulous look on Tony’s face. He was adorable, with his wide brown doe eyes and his hair sticking up every which way. “I’m just kidding! No. I left the cosmic cocaine back at the Sanctum.”

Tony relaxed, the warm chuckle Stephen adored rising in his chest. He smiled, watching as Tony took another bite of pancake. A wave of nostalgia washed over Stephen. He truly missed the hazy days when the world was stained with faded color and all he had to worry about was waltzing through the chaotic aether hand in hand with the man he loved. Now he was stuck in the future side by side with the past- with a Tony so similar in looks yet so vastly different in spirit.

“I don’t know if you’re joking or not,” Tony giggled.

“Don’t worry about it.” Stephen twirled his pancakes in syrup, watching as the impromptu brush painted thin streaks of amber across the porcelain. “So, what did you stay up to work on this time?”

Tony looked like a deer caught in the headlights. Guilt washed over his face, painting warmth across his cheeks. Stephen wanted to lean in and cup his face and press sweet kisses to his forehead.

“I-I…” Tony ran a hand through his hair and let out a soft laugh. “It was a new schematic for a set of prosthetics I’m working on. I was going to try and supplement some of the sensors with stem cell growth to directly interact with the nervous system.”

Stephen perked up. Now that was genuinely interesting. “Ooh! Fun! How are you going to regulate the passage of electricity between the body and the stimulant? Oh! Wait- let me guess. The grown stem cells would act as a transmitter!”

“Yes! Exactly!” Tony cried. “God, I miss having smart people around.” He paused, chewing thoughtfully as he looked up at Stephen in interest. “But how did you know I stayed up?”

Stephen smiled mysteriously. “Great minds think alike.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Yeah right.”

“Fine. I know how it feels to lose yourself in your work. I used to do it to. I’d stay up until the sun rose and the city turned pink and all my caffeine-addled brain could think about was my latest project. I know how hard it is to stop working. That’s why I find meditation so helpful. It’s nice to take my mind off of everything and just lose myself in scheduled silence.”

“Ah. That’s right. I keep forgetting you’re a wizard. Nice outfit, by the way. You look…” Tony trailed off, eyes flickering up and down Stephen’s body, cheeks reddening. Stephen sat still, listening smugly to the words that grew out of silence. “Good. Really good,” he finished.

Stephen smirked, leaning forwards on his elbows, making sure to bat his eyelashes a little. “Thanks. You’re not too bad yourself, you know.”

“Thanks,” Tony said, stuffing another bite of food into his mouth. “Hey, I like your bracelet by the way. It’s super cool. Where’d you get it?”

Stephen stiffened up, any semblance of ease draining from his body in a tidal wave of hurt. He gently tapped the surface of the bracelet, shaking fingers tracing delicate patterns over the smooth surface. He looked down, eyes filled with storm clouds.

“It was- it was a gift from my ex.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.” Tony paused, amber eyes- the same amber eyes that Stephen knew so well- watching him carefully. “Do you want to talk about what happened?” Tony asked, tone gilded with caution and understanding.

“I-I…” Stephen rubbed his eyes, then turned back to Tony, years of despair far beyond the magnitude of his loss emanating from his hopeless eyes. “Everything was so perfect. We were meant for each other, y’know? Two halves of a whole soul. He was the sun to my moon, the fire to my ice.Whenever I was with him, well,” he let out a soft chuckle. “Everything was almost perfect. It was like we were lost in our own little world, our own little slice of paradise. We were perfect for each other.  _ He  _ was perfect.”

“So what happened?”

Stephen bit his lip and swallowed hard. He couldn’t cry in front of Tony. Crying was pathetic. Weak. Useless.

“He- he died.”

Tony’s eyes softened and he breathed in sharply, watching Stephen with a gentle caution unrivaled by even the most caring of lovers.

“Oh. I’m sorry.”  
Stephen laughed wetly, tears caught in his throat. He looked over at Tony, silver-blue eyes filled with nostalgia and tears. Slowly, he slid his hand into Tony’s.

“It’s okay. He died a while ago,” Stephen lied. “I’ve had time to grieve. It just still hurts, y’know?”

“Grief never truly leaves us. It just fades into the background, only making its presence truly known on the days we let our guard down,” Tony said, doe eyes a beautiful shade of caring.

“Well put,” Stephen said. He laughed a little, trying to shake away the heavy atmosphere. “Okay, well this wasn’t exactly what I planned to talk about this morning,” he quipped.

“Right! Yes, why don’t we rewind a bit? I promise not to ask about the death of any loved ones this time,” Tony replied, eyes sparkling.

“Sounds like a plan. Got any conversation starters? Or perhaps a question about me? We don’t really know each other very well. That is, for now,” he said, punctuating the end of his sentence with a cheeky wink. Tony giggled and Stephen’s heart slammed against his chest so hard he feared it would break.

“I agree. Sorry this has been so awkward, it’s just been so long since I’ve been able to sit and eat with someone,” Tony said, cheeks painted a lovely shade of blush red. His smile faded from amusement into sincerity. “But that sounds nice. Why don’t we play twenty questions?”

“Alright. You go first.”

“Okay, hmm. If you had to watch one show and only one show for the rest of your life what show would it be?”

“Brooklyn Nine Nine,” Stephen answered without hesitation. Good or evil, he loved that show. “What’s your favorite type of ice cream? Aside from your own, that is.”

“Huh, I’d have to go with the Tonight Dough.”

“An admirable choice,” Stephen said.

“Who’s your least favorite Avenger? And be honest. I won’t be offended if it’s me,” Tony snickered. Stephen raised a pointed eyebrow at him.

“Are you kidding me? How could I ever hate Tony Stark, genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist?” he purred, sending Tony a sweet and sultry gaze, watching as Tony’s face turned a brilliant shade of red. A bashful playboy. Now that wasn’t something one saw every day. “But in all seriousness, Captain America. Steve Rogers is a massive dick.”

Tony snorted. “You don’t know the half of it.”

“Okay, next question. Why were you so startled that I made breakfast?” Stephen asked, cocking his head at Tony. Tony looked down.

“Well, the compound’s been pretty much empty ever since the accords. It’s been awhile since anyone else other than Rhodey and I have actually stayed over. And I guess I’m still a little jumpy. After…”

Stephen watched as Tony’s hand subconsciously drifted down to his chest, eyes fading away into memory. Stephen frowned. What had happened? If any of the Avengers had laid a finger on his love- well, it wouldn’t be pretty. He’d gladly slaughter everyone in the goddamn world if Tony so much as asked. What he would do to protect his love- well that was a whole new level of carnage all together.

“I see.”

“I don’t know. I guess I just didn’t really expect it,” Tony explained. He shook his head a little and the shine returned to his eyes, warmth overtaking his soul once more. “But that’s not to say I didn’t like it. You’re a really awesome cook! I just wasn’t expecting it.”

“Well you had better get used to it. I’m going to be cooking a lot more while I stay in the compound,” Stephen promised, smiling cockily at the man of his affections. “You’ll get to try a lot of new things, dare I even say  _ strange  _ ones,” he purred.

Tony’s face flushed bright red. “Wow, doc, so forwards. At least take me out to dinner first,” he laughed.

“Splendid idea! What time?” Stephen quipped back, a teasing smile dancing on his lips.

“Stephen Strange, are you flirting with me?” Tony asked, eyes wide, but happy.

“What else would I be doing? Building a sandcastle? Organizing a rave?”

Tony leaned forwards, smile bright enough to melt ice and blind hearts. “Well, I think that-” He was interrupted by a sharp beep from his watch. He swore and stood, looking down at the screen projecting above the watch face. “Dammit- I have to go,” he muttered, standing and turning away from Stephen. “Something just came up at Stark Industries. They need me to head down to Stark Tower.” He poured what was left of his coffee into a thermos and began to leave, turning back to Stephen just before he left the room. “Thanks for breakfast. It was good talking to you, doc. You’re just as mysterious as ever.”

And with those last words he was gone, leaving a trail of metaphorical stardust and flowers in his wake. Stephen stared after him, longing filling his soul and washing over every fiber of his being. He desperately wanted Tony. Both the dark, psychopathic man he had fallen for and the beautiful angel before him now. But he didn’t have time for internal conflict. His mission was to end the world correctly this time, and that involved standing side by side with a man wrought with darkness and evil as they watched the world burn around them. Stephen just feared that the Tony for whom he seeked submission and corruption was even deeper into the side of light than he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me what you think! I love all the comments and I love hearing everyone's input. Again, sorry if this chapter was a bit dry. I've been super busy and I haven't really had time to do in depth editing.
> 
> Title is from A Sadness Runs Through Him by the Hoosiers


	4. Ain't No Rest For the Wicked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stephen deals with Tony's insomnia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These keep getting longer lol  
WARNING- Past abuse scene here (if you don't want to read it skip Stephen's memory)  
WARNING- Suicide dream (if you don't want to read it skip the first part)

The top of the world looked so nice. The sky stretched around him for miles and miles, an endless miasma of purple and blue. A few clouds streaked across the horizon like the delicate sugar crystals of cotton candy, both in texture and color. The rest of the limitless heaven surrounding Stephen was stained the palest purple of lilac, petals faded by time and glazed with the haze of sepia; the breathtaking result of overexposure. Above him, at the culmination of its apogee, the top of the exosphere seemed to bleed into the endless darkness of space, fading into the fragile, deep blue of the conclusion of twilight.

Stephen took a deep breath as he stared up at the sky, crisp cold air stinging his lungs in the most pleasant way possible. He looked back down towards the earth, towards the glittering sprawl of New York City, so so far below his feet. The last rays of the setting sun fractured as they hit the glass buildings, turning each pane into a sheet of burning gold. Stephen was so high up the sound of the traffic and the people barely reached him. The only thing he could hear was the roar of the wind in his ears.

The world was so beautiful. It was times like this that made Stephen wonder if he truly wanted it to burn. But beauty didn’t mean good. Beauty, after all, was just a cheap trick deployed by mother nature to hide the never ending toxins of reality. To paint a pretty picture over the bloody, oozing canvas of humanity. To hide even the most visceral of wounds. That’s why the most beautiful flowers were the most lethal; why the most incredible people were always the most deadly.

Stephen’s heart clenched painfully and he grit his teeth, watching through windborn tears as the stars slowly faded into existence, thousands of dead light hung on the glossy negatives of the night sky. The night was perfect for many things, but he only had a single one in mind.

He stepped closer to the ledge, head spinning as he stared down at the streets below. So many people, swarming like ants on the thin grey strips of sidewalk. So many lives. So many minds. He shivered, one final wave of excitement washing over him. Nothing was more final, more glorious than the destruction of a mind. The concept of a person was so delicate, so easily unraveled. The thought of the uniqueness of his mind, irreversibly erased from the world and gone forever- well, nothing had made Stephen happier in a long, long time.

He took one last deep breath, a few final fleeting thoughts racing through his head. Should he have left a note? No. It wasn’t like anyone would read it anyways. Should he have said goodbye? To who? No one cared enough about him to warrant a final farewell statement. He had made sure of that. He had pushed everyone away until he was all alone in his little bubble, trapped behind the walls of his thoughts. And now, even as he stood on the crystalline edge of his universe, no one would care when they found his bloody and broken and bruised body. No amount of magic or redemption could have saved him from this fate. It’s what he deserved, afterall.

He smiled one last time, letting the last soft rays of the setting sun wash his face in gold. He was on top of the world, the only thing between him and the infinite unknown one single step. His newly damaged hands, ever-unsteady, were still. There was no hiding on top of the world. No sounds to hide his thoughts, no actions but the one before him.

So with one final step, his life reached its conclusion and he jumped.

He was falling, the air folding around his body on the way to giving him the freedom, the future he so longed for. The world was a kaleidoscope, colors blurred and defined all at once, swirling around him and circling back in a dizzying array of light. Gold and glass and the brilliant stars- they surrounded Stephen like the world was folding into a bubble of pastel perfection, cozy and warm and enticing him into the sweet arms of death. Of freedom. Of release.

Something grabbed his wrist and he jerked back, pulled from his momentum until he dangled above the city like the last lone petal of a dying flower. He tried to pull his hand from its hold, but the grip on his wrist only tightened. Stephen looked up, fury dancing in the icy ocean of his eyes, ready to yell and scream until whoever had interrupted his perfect ending.

He was met with a pair of warm brown eyes the color of caramel and embers.

Tony.

Stephen’s lips parted, stinging in the cold, thin air of heaven. The air seemed to leave his lungs, the gentle pulse of his bracelet inches away from its source and mate. Stephen clutched Tony’s hand, suddenly begging for his grasp to hold steady despite the damage in his tendons that inevitably prevented him from doing so.

Tony smiled down at him, heated eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Oh Angel, what are you trying to do without me? Fly?”

“Tony,” Stephen gasped, lungs fighting for air. “You- You caught me.”

Tony smiled eyes glittering like those of a cat. “Hey Stephen,” he purred, hand tight around Stephen’s broken fingers. Funny how the things that were once his greatest strength would become his unsteady downfall.

“Tony- Tony I can’t-” Stephen blurted, trying to force his words past the barrier of the wind. Tony just smiled, cocking his head.

“You’re so beautiful, Stephen, you know that? Gorgeous. I just adore you, beloved. So perfect, so smart.” Tony smiled, teeth sharp and eyes even sharper. “Even now, a foot from oblivion, you’re positively exquisite.”

“Tony- what are you- why’d you catch me?” Stephen stuttered.

“Well I couldn’t let you die, now, could I? What fun would it be to burn the world be without you by my side as I light the flame?” Tony breathed, eyes flashing with fire. “No. Your story isn’t finished. We’ve got a lot of ground ahead of us, princess. Can’t have you slipping away from me this easily.”

“Tony-”

Tony’s eyes melted into the heat of seduction. “Oh baby you’re so pretty. Devotion’s such a good color on you. Almost as perfect as the marks from my hands on your skin,” Tony purred, voice dipping down into a soft, velvety promise. “I can’t wait to end the world with you, baby. Can’t wait to have you and the rest of the universe all to myself. Can’t wait to mark you every day, to worship you until all you can think about is my hands on your body. Can’t wait until we reach the end, bodies sore and bruised and belonging to only each other.”

“I don’t understand-”

Tony’s face hardened, all the adoration draining from his eyes, cold anger replacing it instead. Stephen could feel his grip loosen ever so slightly.

“You never do, do you,” he sneered.

“Tony?” The plea was quiet and scared, voice shaking more than his hands.

“Sometimes you’re just so pathetic I can’t remember why I keep you around.” Tony rolled his eyes and leaned forwards, glaring white-hot daggers at Stephen. “You’re so dumb, so naive. So goddamn  _ needy _ . Why do you even try anymore? Maybe you should just give up. Let go. It’s going to happen eventually, might as well be sooner than later. Besides,” Tony scoffed, hand going slack in Stephen’s desperate grip. “It’s not like anyone’s going to miss you. I know I won’t.”

“Tony- Tony please! I love you,” Stephen swore, panic washing over him as he stared into the eyes he adored and was met with nothing but cold indifference and a wall of fire.

Tony smirked, prying one of Stephen’s fingers from his wrist. “I know, Angel. I know. But this is where your story ends. This is where you give up and stop holding me back. Don’t worry, though. I promise I’ll see you again. It’s only a matter of time.”

He pried away another finger and Stephen’s ocean-blue eyes widened in horror as he felt himself slip, cold hands spiking with the pain of his old injuries as the wind battered his weak body. Tony was right. It would be so easy to just let go, to just fall away and leave this world and all his problems behind. But he couldn’t! He loved Tony with all his heart. He needed to be with him. He couldn’t live without him. He couldn’t  _ die  _ without him. Without Tony death held no meaning. But the same could be said for his life.

When he was in Tony’s arms everything seemed to fade to pastel blurs interrupted only by vivid, searing kisses. Stephen’s head still spun like Mercury orbiting the sun, but it was better when Tony was around. He couldn’t even imagine the agony Tony’s absence would bring. He had been so happy ever since he met the man, floating on a cloud of bliss and ecstasy. And Stephen gave one hundred percent of the credit to Tony. He was Stephen’s drug. He was the thing that kept all the hell and chaos that scratched at the inside of Stephen’s mind at bay. Because without Tony Stephen was nothing but bloody bookends and bright butterflies and broken bones. He needed Tony to survive. He needed Tony to stay sane.

His red lips parted, sending silent prayers towards his savior, pleading to the distant eyes above him as he clutched Tony’s wrist like a lifeline, the other man’s hand slack in his grip.

“No- Tony! You can torture me; you can do anything like to me- just please! Don’t let me go! I need you,” he gasped, begging up to the god above him.

Tony smiled, dark and dangerous and cold.

“Oh don’t worry, Angel. Dead is the new sexy.”

Tony pried the last of his fingers away as Stephen desperately fought back against him, clawing at his wrist as the wind slammed against his body. It was over. He had lost. Tony was right. He was worthless. He should just let go.

But he wanted to keep living. Didn’t he?

No. He was worthless. Useless. Dumb.

_ No. _

He should have died long ago, left the world when he lost his only talent.

_ Stop. _

He never deserved Tony’s love. Tony was a goddamn king, a bloody and undeniable god. How could Stephen have ever compared? How could he have ever even come close to deserving any affection from someone as undeniably brilliant as Tony Stark?

_ Stop! _

He deserved to die. To free the universe of his burden. He wasn’t worth the air he breathed. He wasn’t worth Tony’s affections. He wasn’t worth anything. He needed to let go. Let all the fear of the unknown and of death fall away with his body. Plummet to the ground like a starling falling from the sky, weak wings torn away by the words of his most trusted love. He deserved to die.

_ STOP! _

He closed his eyes, tears streaming down his face, wind turning each drop into shards of ice sharp against his cheeks. He was so scared. But soon he wouldn’t be. He let his hand go slack, body stilling as he let himself slip from Tony’s heart and mind.

Then the grip around his wrist tightened once more, fingers desperately clinging to his slim wrist. He felt the gentle throbbing pulse at his wrist stop, but the warm hand still held him tight. Stephen opened his tear-filled eyes in confusion.

Above him, Tony had shifted, not physically, but in the indescribable, heavenly way found only in a change in heart. His wide brown eyes, the color of amber and gold, shone bright in the light of the setting sun, desperation and fear flickering across their mahogany depths. His hand was wrapped tightly around Stephen’s limp wrist, trying with all his might to maintain the frayed lifeline that was the only thing standing between Stephen and death.

“Stephen! What are you doing?” he cried, voice wrought with panic.

Stephen chuckled sadly. “What you always wanted me to do, love. Fly.”

“Are you out of your mind?! No! You can’t do this, Stephen! You’re amazing, incredible! Please! Just keep holding on!”

“Why? It’s not like anyone even cares about me. You were the last one.” Stephen hung his head, tears dripping down his cheeks and onto the pastel blurs of the world below. “But did you really care about me Tony? You always said I was special. That we were a pair. That we were meant to be one. But that was a lie, wasn’t it?” A sob shook his chest. “You don’t care about me at all.”

“That’s bullshit!”

“I love you, Tony. I love you so much. Why can’t you love me back?” he sobbed, clinging to Tony’s hand in anger and fear. “You were the only thing that’s right about this broken world.”

“Stephen- I care about you so much! Please! Don’t let go!”

“Why?”

“Because- because I really do care about you! You’re the only one who’s even capable of understanding me! No one else knows how it feels, to have all this mess in my head- all these thoughts swirling around and setting my mind on fire! And my reputation- you’re the only one in years who’s been able to look past who I was and learn to love who I am now! You understand me, Stephen! You’re the only one who can!” Stephen’s eyes widened in horror. Tony’s beautiful face, once home to only peace and hope, was twisted with desperation and mania. He truly believed Stephen was the only one who could set him free. Tony squeezed his hand even tighter. “Please don’t leave me alone, Stephen! You’re the only thing in this world I can trust!”

Stephen inhaled sharply. He knew exactly how Tony felt. He knew just what it was like to hide behind smiles and just how much loneliness tore at his heart. But he also knew exactly what his presence would do to Tony’s beautiful, delicate mind.

“You know I can’t do that, love,” he breathed, a tiny, desperate smile fluttering across his tear-stained face. “I’m damaged. But you- you’re not broken yet, beloved. You’re not beyond repair.” He smiled softly. “I adore you, Tony, and I hope you can make this world better. I know I couldn’t.”

He shook off Tony’s hand and pushed himself away, plummeting down to the material world and up to the metaphysical one, watching as Tony desperately reached after him, desperation and need washing over the eyes that Stephen so adored.

Stephen sat bolt upright in bed, panting heavily. He was coated in a thin sheen of sweat, lungs folding and unfolding so quickly he thought his windpipe would tear. That had been… terrifying. It had been so visceral, so goddamn  _ real _ he swore he could still feel the icy wind tearing at his clothes and Tony’s hand tight in his. But even mere seconds after waking, he could feel it fade and blur in his mind, only the essence, the mere concepts of his dream remaining.

But he still felt wrong. Something in the dream had unsettled him, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what exactly. It was like he was trying to read the reflection of a book on the surface of a rippling pond. Try as he might, he couldn’t clarify the picture. He had registered his photo, but pulled it from the developer before it could form.

He let out a long sigh, running a cold, shaking hand through his hair. He slid out of bed and stretched. His mind was far too uneasy to sleep. Maybe a cup of tea would help. He slipped on a sweatshirt and the cloak settled around his shoulders. He shot it a confused, but sleepy look. Had it really followed Stephen everywhere in this universe? That must have been uncomfortable. He couldn’t imagine how awkward late-night bathroom trips were. He padded down the hallway in his socks, yawning. The world always looked so beautiful in the dim quiet of night time, shadows softening the hard glass edges of the world.

He stepped into the kitchen, heading towards the cupboard for tea until he noticed a faint light in the adjoining room. He frowned. Had someone left a lamp on? Was someone still up? He walked towards the light, abandoning all thoughts of tea in lieu of curiosity.

It was Tony. Of course it was Tony. Who else had that beautiful drive and insatiable thirst for knowledge? Stephen let out a soft sigh. His Tony had done this all the time, back before they’d torn society apart at the seams. Work so hard the world seemed to fade away into the background, work until not working caused only dissociation and confusion. Work until the sun set, the stars crossed the sky, and the moon sank to the horizon as red bled across the Manhattan skyline. Work until he couldn’t think straight anymore, the millions of plans and ideas swirling through his head fueling every frantic action, ever fearful scribble sped up by the dread that if he didn’t spill his theories across paper in that instant that they would disappear forever, lost to the fragile memory of the human mind.

Stephen wavered in the doorway, unsure whether or not to intervene. It wasn’t healthy for Tony to do this. He needed rest. He needed to take care of himself, that was for certain, and if Stephen didn’t do anything, he’d surely waste away, a slave to his own mind. But his Tony had hated it when Stephen distracted him. Surely this Tony would hate it too.

The Tony before him typed frantically at his computer, eyes glazed over and glossed with the bright blue reflection of knowledge hovering in the air before him. The image was so eerily similar to the past that Stephen could feel the memories washing over him.

Stephen bit his lip, watching from the doorwa y as Tony scribbled frantically at a piece of paper, dark eyes narrowed in venomous concentration. It had been days since they had last spoken, and the distance was driving Stephen up the wall. Tony had locked himself away in his workshop and ordered Stephen not to interrupt. And Stephen had heeded his words. But now all he could think about was disobeying Tony’s wishes.

He just missed Tony so so much. He missed the sunny days when the genius would pull him out into the streets of New York City, smile as warm as the bright breeze around them. He missed the nights when they’d climb to the roof of Stark Tower, glasses of wine in hand, and talk as the moon rose above them like a single drop of mercury on the dark planes of the sky. He missed the days they could find solace, find peace, in only the sound of their names on each others lips. Tony was the sun, beautiful and warm and breathtaking and Stephen was lucky to be fed by his warm rays. Stephen needed him. Without Tony he was just the moon, a pale imitation of ineffable glory. But Tony had isolated himself, cut the Earth and her moon from the fabric of his orbit, substituting affection for algorithms and kisses for a pen. Stephen just wished he would take a break. Tony had always moved too fast for the world to keep up with, but Stephen had always thought he was the one exception. But he had clearly been wrong.

Stephen let out a long, saddened sigh, thick with longing. All he wanted to do was open the glass door between them and wrap his arms around the man he loved, but he knew how much Tony would hate being interrupted. He always said that for his work to be pure he must remain undisturbed. But Stephen just missed him so  _ so  _ much. So much that each agonizing second apart felt like a million years, that each minute was more like a century than its namesake. He pressed his forehead against the glass, watching as Tony furiously typed away at a holoscreen, the cold blue glow of his latest blueprints setting the room aflame.

Tony had been doing this more and more often recently. Locking himself away to map out the end of the world, or tinker with his suits. They’d stopped going on dates, stopped sharing meals, and Stephen had grown used to the cold, empty spot in bed beside him at night. Stephen let out a crippling sigh. He just wished things were the way they used to be. They’d been so happy, careless and young, with only dreams of each other and the end of the world. But now… Stephen shivered. Everything was so cold. The tower was so big and he felt so small. So alone.

Tony insisted that nothing had changed. That their love transcended any physical barriers distance could offer. Well, that’s what he used to say. Stephen hadn’t been able to talk to him in days. But if Tony said nothing had changed, then he must be right. Tony was always right.

So surely if nothing had changed Tony wouldn’t mind if Stephen popped into the workshop and pulled him away with a kiss and the promise of lunch in Paris. It was a terrible excuse, but at this point Stephen would do almost anything to see the love of his life again.

A heavy mixture of fear and nerves swirled deep in his stomach, weighing him down more than any physical curse ever could as he pushed open the door as silently as possible. The room was hot, tension a far better conductor than any thermal source technical or magical. The man before him continued typing, unaware of Stephen’s presence.

“Tony?” Stephen’s voice sounded small, almost child-like, in the emptiness.

The genius said nothing, simply carrying on in his work.

“Tony? Love?” Stephen tried again, words trembling with tension.

Once more he was met with silence.

Stephen took one last deep breath and crossed over behind Tony, laying a shaking hand on his beloved’s shoulder.

“Tony, I-”

“Why the fuck are  _ you _ here?” Tony snapped, eyes flashing in the low light. Stephen tried not to flinch at the venom in Tony’s honey-sweet words. Tony had every right to be mad, after all. Stephen had violated his wishes, his personal space. His anger was completely justified, unlike Stephen’s selfish wishes.

Stephen pulled his hand back, but Tony shot out and grabbed his wrist before he could fully retreat. Cold sharp pain and the warm rush of physical contact shot through Stephen’s hand, his frayed nerves crying out joyfully in Tony’s touch. He leaned into Tony, craving more physical affection from the genius. He was met with a hard glare and a push. Stephen stumbled backwards, hands flying up to cover his face in fear.

“I-I’m sorry Tony! I just missed you! And I thought maybe you could take a break and come have lunch with me! Maybe Paris? Remember that little restaurant near the Seine? I know how much you loved their burgers,” Stephen stuttered frantically.

Tony rolled his eyes, annoyance and disgust radiating from ever move. He let go of Stephen’s shaking hand and turned away in revulsion, shadows playing tantalizingly across his face.

“God you’re pathetic. And you wonder why I lock myself away in my workshop all day.”

Stephen’s heart dropped like a paperweight in a river, gravity pushing aside water and folding it back around until it buried every last glittering inch of hope. Stephen just wanted to see Tony happy. He just wanted to see his lover smile. Tony’s happiness was the only thing that made Stephen smile anymore. He had been foolish to think that he was able to make that happen.

“Tony- please don’t be mad! I just wanted to make you happy!”

Tony whipped around, glaring icy hot daggers at Stephen. Stephen flinched under his gaze. Tony held all his emotions in his beautiful, doe-like eyes, and right now, they were angry enough to burn the heart out of someone.

“Well the reason I’m not happy is you!” Tony snarled. “If you’d just let me work-”

“Of course! Anything for you! I can I go spend time with Christine! I can leave you alone and sleep at her apartment for a few days, let you work on your projects-”

“No!” Tony hissed. “I don’t like you spending time with that whore.”

Stephen’s face crumbled. Christine was one of his closest friends. “She’s not a whore! She’s dating Pepper! You trust Pepper, right?”

“And Pepper’s far too good for her ungrateful ass, she just doesn’t see it yet.” He turned away, muttering under his breath, “Reminds me of someone else I know.” He turned back to Stephen, eyes dripping murder and molten gold. “Now leave.”

Stephen felt his insides shatter. Was Tony talking about him? No. Tony loved him. Right?

“Wait! Tony! What did you mean by- Ah!”

Tony struck Stephen hard across the face, hard enough for Stephen to stumble backwards a few steps. His skin tingled faintly, then a wave of pain washed over him in the same way the sun rises; a little, then all at once.

“What did I say, bitch?!”

Tony’s words were as sharp as the glass of a shattered windshield.

“I-I’m sorry!” Stephen cried.

Tony hit him again, the force of the blow turning Stephen’s head sharply. Tears pooled in Stephen’s eyes, burning hot against his cold skin. They poured down his high cheeks like pathetic excuses for Washington waterfalls. He opened his mouth and salt coated his trembling lips, acidic and glossy.

“Please!”

Another hit. More pain. More tears.

“I promise I won’t disturb you again!”

Tony glared at him, hard and cold, and Stephen flinched, expecting another blow. Instead, Tony grabbed Stephen’s jaw with a steady hand and forced Stephen to look down at him. Stephen gulped, trying to force down the sobs threatening to breach the oceans in his lungs. Tony smiled cruelly, eyes shifting from anger to something darker, something far more ancient and sadistic than rage. Tony wet his lips, a soft sigh breaching their ruby depths as he reached up a free hand and brushed away a stray tear from Stephen’s cheek, bringing his hand down to his mouth and licking the misery from his fingers.

“God I love how gorgeous you are when you cry,” Tony breathed, tone reverent. “Pain looks so perfect on you, darling.”

Fear crept its long fingers up Stephen’s spine, but it was quickly conquered by the overwhelming rush of relief that crashed over him. Tony was touching him. Tony was talking to him. Tony still loved him. Tony still cared about him. And that would be enough for Stephen. All he needed was the unwavering care and support that Tony was so happy to offer.

Right?

Stephen blinked hard, trying desperately to push down the tears threatening to spill from his eyes. That moment had not been… great, to say the least. But it was unfair of him to place all the blame on Tony. He was the one, after all, who had violated Tony’s space. He had disrespected the other man’s wishes. Tony had had ever right to be mad.

Stephen leaned his head against the door frame, the gentle clicking of the keyboard filling the air alongside the indistinct shuffle of Tony’s mutterings. He shouldn’t interrupt Tony. He should leave him be, no matter how unhealthy his habits were. No matter how much he longed to see Tony’s face. It was best to let him be, even if Stephen’s heart screamed otherwise.

He turned away from the room, looking down to the floor instead. Blue light washed over the dark tiles of the floor, cold and cruel. Every inch of his body told Stephen to turn around and pull Tony away, to wrench the genius away from the addictive mistress named creation. But this was for the best. If being alone made Tony happy then it could make Stephen happy too.

Then the delicate, quiet sobs of exhaustion echoed out from the glowing room and every drop of uncertainty vanished from Stephen’s mind.

He marched forwards into the room, heart far more sure than it had ever been. He grabbed Tony’s shoulder and the genius stuttered, tired eyes flickering around wildly before finding their mark on Stephen’s lips. His face was stained with tears of consumption and now, panic.

“Stephen! What are you doing here?” Tony cried, wiping frantically at his face.

“I heard you crying,” Stephen said. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I-I’m fine!” Tony snapped. “Just let me work.”

His eyes flashed with aphotic anger and Stephen inhaled sharply. For the first time since he’d been in this dimension Tony was submitting to the darkness within him. Stephen had to suppress the smile that rose to his lips. Perfect. The tiniest little shards of the Tony he knew so well shone through like moonlight through a stained glass window. Beautiful.

But in the moment it was a little inconvenient. Right now he needed to convince Tony to sleep, not corrupt him. Stephen tightened his grip on Tony’s shoulder, hoping the gentle reassuring touch could calm him.

“Tony- you need to rest. This isn’t healthy.”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Tony growled.

He shrugged away from Stephen’s touch and shoved him away. Stephen stumbled backwards, razor sharp panic flickering up and down every nerve in his body. He let out a terrified cry and flinched violently, bringing his hands up to cover his face, shuddering involuntarily. Tony’s eyes widened and he backed away, concern filling their beautiful brown depths.

“Oh my God- Stephen, are you okay? I’m so sorry!” Tony cried. He faltered, seemingly torn between rushing forwards to comfort Stephen and keeping his distance. “I-I-I- I don’t know what’s going on,” he gasped, clutching his head, weaving his fingers through his messy hair.

Stephen straightened up and stepped forwards once more, holding out a hand for Tony to take. Tony was the sun, and he was spinning faster and burning brighter than he could bear. Stephen just hoped his comfort was enough to pull him out of the oceans of his imagination and back to the world of the living.

“It’s okay,” he mumbled, voice softer than the sound of an April drizzle. “I’m fine. You need to rest. Just let go. You need to relax, Tony. Just relax.”

Tony’s eyes flickered frantically between Stephen and his desk, tears rising to his eyes once more. Stephen knew how he felt. There was too much going on; too many ideas whirling around in his head. He was exhausted, mind driven by nothing but paranoia and fumes at this point. He needed to slow down. But right now, with his mind running ten thousand miles an hour, that seemed impossible. Stephen watched with temperate eyes as Tony’s bottom lip wobbled and he rubbed his face in a weak attempt at pulling himself together.

Then, after one final indecisive glance back at his work, he stumbled forwards into Stephen’s arms. Stephen wrapped the other man up in a soothing embrace, rubbing gentle circles on Tony’s back as the man sobbed into his chest.

“Stephen I can’t- my mind won’t stop going and I need to sleep but I have to keep working- but I feel like I’m dying and I can’t keep my eyes open! But I can’t sleep! My body’s so tired but whenever I try and close my eyes my brain just keeps…” his words broke away and melted into sobs like waves washing away footprints on a beach.

“Shh… Shh…” Stephen mumbled, voice almost lost in the quiet hum of the night. “It’s okay, Tony. I’m here.”

Tony let out another soft sob.

“I just can’t keep going…”

“And you don’t have to, darling. Let go. Try and slow all the madness in your head. Relax and let it fall away. You’re tearing yourself apart, Tony. It’s not healthy,” Stephen whispered. Tony’s fingers bunched up the fabric of his nightshirt, his exhausted body shaking with tension.

“I-I-”

“Sh… Quiet your thoughts and calm that beautiful mind of yours,” Stephen said, pressing a gentle kiss to Tony’s forehead. He pulled away, clasping Tony’s hands in his. “Here. Come with me. I think I may know something that may help.”

Tony nodded, eyes glazed with tears and the fragile exhaustion that only comes with the overworking of the mind.

Stephen pulled out his sling ring and opened a portal, the warm breeze of a summer night blowing into the office. Stephen stepped through and turned back, holding out a hand for Tony to take. The genius faltered, beautiful iris’s flickering with uncertainty and doubt. Then he locked eyes with Stephen, and a wave of understanding seemed to crash over him, muscles loosening as some of the tension sloughed off his body. He grabbed Stephen’s hand and stepped through the portal. Stephen smiled and relished the feeling of Tony’s warm fingers in his. He had missed this more than anyone could possibly know.

They emerged on top of a mountain, a plane of rocky peaks and nothing but sky and the tops of the trees below. Tony looked around wildly, then back as the portal dissolved behind them, sparks splashing onto the ground in a cascade of gold. Stephen took a deep breath. The air was so fresh and cool out here, a stark contrast to the hot, stale summer air of the city. It was calming.

“Stephen- what’s going on? Where are we?” he asked, voice tired and frantic all at once. 

Stephen smiled gently and took his hand, leading him a little further up the mountain. They reached the peak and Stephen waved his hand, a bundle of blankets and two thermoses of hot chocolate appearing before them. They sat down and Stephen wrapped a blanket around their shoulders, handing Tony a thermos. The entire world was frozen around them, the only movement the mellow hum of crickets and the steady path the stars charted across the sky.

“Here. Drink this. Relax,” he urged.

“Stephen I can’t-” Then Tony looked up and his mouth fell open in awe.

They sky above them was endless, an infinite expanse of darkness, millions of shifting colors, all different yet so similar. The edges of the horizon were painted the dustiest shade of purple, the haze of the city seeping into the portrait of the sky. The tiniest pinpricks of stars scattered themselves across the sky, minuscule pinpricks of silver light on the rich blue-black of the atmosphere. And behind them- the faintest dusting of rose quartz gave way to the band of stars far beyond the transparent sky. The Milky Way. It was gorgeous, Stephen thought, a warm tingle filling his stomach, melting him from the inside out. The sky was filled with hopeless nostalgia, but all Stephen could bring himself to focus on was Tony’s face.

Tony’s eyes were wide and bright, lips parted in wonder. The glory of the night sky paled in comparison to the beautiful shades of astonishment painted across his face. The undiluted wonder at the world softened his eyes and melted the stress from his shoulders. The bags under his eyes seemed to evaporate and the worry lines erased themselves from his skin. He looked a million years younger. Where the burden of a thousand centuries normally rested upon his temples like a twisted crown, lay only quiet reverence. The gentle light of the night played across his face, blurring the usually sharp details into gentle shadows. His eyes, still glossy with stress and fear, were wide and perfect, the reflection of the stars melting into their deep chocolaty depths. Sitting there, on top of the mountain and painted against the starry backdrop of the night sky, Tony looked like a king. Like a god. Gentle and quiet and pure, his silhouette robed in the folds of the warm night breeze and crowned with pure, dripping starlight.

Stephen’s heart twisted and he gulped, trying to still the rampant fluttering in his chest. He could feel his control slipping away, and although he scrabbled to cling onto it with damaged fingers, he could still feel himself slipping away. But goddamn if this was what he was falling for he’d willingly throw himself off the edge for just one of Tony’s smiles.

“Wow,” Tony breathed, wonder splashing from the word. “It’s- It’s beautiful.”

“Mt. Marcy. In the Adirondacks. I thought you could use some time away from the city. Away form your work. If even for just a few hours.”

Tony’s face darkened and he tore his eyes from the majesty above them. “Stephen you know I can’t stop-”

Stephen cut him off with a look.

“Nonsense. You need a break. Now what’s your favorite book?” Stephen asked.

“Uh…” Tony’s cheeks darkened in the shadows of the night. “ _ Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire _ . But what does that have to do with-”

“Perfect.” Stephen opened a portal to Karmartaj’s library and pulled out a well loved copy of the book, opening it and casting a faint purple glow about the pages. “I will read and you shall listen; -and so we will pass away this terrible night together. Calm your mind, Tony, and let yourself slip away into sleep’s gentle arms. The world is not done with you yet.”

Tony stared up at him in admiration, brown eyes brimming with a million emotions, but most prominently, gratitude. He smiled, the expression softer than the lights of the stars above them. He let out a long sigh and tucked himself into Stephen’s arms, warmth spreading between the two and outwards into the pastel world around them. He leaned his head on Stephen’s shoulder and let his eyes drift across the starry sky around them. Stephen smiled weakly. Tony was so close to his heart, and he to Tony’s. Nothing could break that fragile moment. Everything was almost perfect.

“Chapter One: The villagers of Little Hangleton still called it “the Riddle House,” even though it had been many years since the Riddle family had lived there. It stood on a hill overlooking the village, some of its windows boarded, tiles missing from its roof, and ivy spreading unchecked over its face…”

Above them, the stars trailed across the night sky like the steam rising from their cups and the trust emanating from their minds.

They got to chapter six before Tony finally drifted off. Stephen took a second to hold the other man in his arms as the night sky folded around them, the deepest shade of navy and the brightest shade of gold. But all good things come to an end, he supposed. He stood, gently lifting Tony’s sleeping form into his arms with the help of the cloak. He opened a portal back to the compound, and with one final look at the beautiful darkness of the mountaintop and a last wistful breath of air, cool and fresh and tinged with the barest hint of campfire smoke, he stepped out of their fantasy of peace and collective solitude and back into the heavy weight of reality.

Stephen closed the portal and carried Tony down the hall into his room. He carefully placed Tony onto his bed and tucked the comforter up over his chest, still rising and falling gently. Tony immediately curled up, clutching the blanket to his scarred chest. Stephen couldn’t help the tiny smile that drifted to his lips. Tony was beautiful. An angel, lost on Earth without any memories of his heavenly past. He was incredible. Splendid. Dazzling. And so far beyond Stephen’s reach. Looking at him, Stephen was reminded once more just how lucky he was to even be able to have a chance with the beautiful man before him. And once he got it he was going to cherish every golden second of it. Time was his mistress and he would bend all of reality to meet their needs. The future was perfect, and Stephen couldn’t wait for its culmination.

Stephen brushed a stray lock of hair from Tony’s forehead, shaking hands gentle and kind. He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to the genius’s forehead. A promise of their future together. He stood, and with one last lingering gaze, left the man he adored to sleep the twilight away. Stephen pressed his shaking hands to his chest, eyes wet as premonitions of times to come filled his mind like a storm of jewel-colored butterflies.

He had so much work to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is from 'Ain't no Rest for the Wicked' by Cage the Elephant


	5. Hold On To This Lullaby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet evil Peter! Yay! Also, several people die.
> 
> (this and the next chapter were originally one, but it was so long I decided to split it in two.)
> 
> Btw, Peter goes to school near Stark Tower because I said so

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not updating for a while. I was hella busy last weekend and this week has been crazy! Anyways, here's chapter 5!

Stephen had come up with a plan. He needed to corrupt Tony Stark, that much was clear. But how to do it… now that was the tricky part. He had seen darkness within this Tony. It was there, that much he was certain of. Stephen only needed to know how to get it to surface. He knew he needed to proceed slowly, and with caution. If you put a frog in boiling water it will jump out, but if you place it in the pot and slowly turn up the heat, the frog with boil alive without knowledge of what’s truly happening.

This Tony was trusting, far more than was good for him, that was plain to see. The easiest way to lure him to the dark side would be to seduce him. A simple foundation to build upon, but quite unbreakable. His Tony had always said that love was man’s greatest weakness, and an easily exploitable one at that. The same seemed to be true to this dimension as well. He could tell Tony was already inclined towards him. It seemed that when it came to love, this Tony fell fast and fell hard. Good. Stephen could use that to his advantage. He needed Tony to trust him. To trust him more deeply than anyone else. Only then would Tony believe how little he needed them.

That was the long term path to their endgame. Stephen needed to win over Tony’s heart and shower him with the undiluted and unselfish intimacy that he had never known before. Build their bond until Stephen was the only one Tony could see. Stephen needed to love him, adore him, promise him the world, and then slowly strip each and every one of his friends away from him until all of the Avengers were painted in a cruel, vicious darkness that Tony longed to free the world of.

He let out a long sigh as he flipped through the pages of his journal, a leather-bound tome sealed by magic. It was only here that he could inscribe his deepest memories, color in the pages of his past with the love of his life. No one here would ever know what he had been through, and while Stephen looked forwards to making new, destruction-wrought memories with this Tony, he couldn’t help but try and cling to the pastel nostalgia that graced his old ones. Yet not even his eidetic memory could fully capture his past. Try as he might, they slipped between his shaking fingers like water. Holding on to each and every one was impossible. Maybe someday he could give up and let go, content with the life he had made in this new reality, but right now it was still too soon. It was funny. The future and the past were such abstract concepts yet far easier to grasp then the present.

He massaged his head, thinking about what to do next. How could he further earn Tony’s trust, aside from maintaining his usual flirty banter? It had been a few weeks since he had taken Tony to the mountains and they had lost all bearings of good and evil in the sea of stars above them. That beautiful, delicate moment between them had been… exactly what Stephen had needed. He had taken Tony at his most vulnerable and cared for him, showing the genius that it was okay to let his guard down around Stephen. He needed more moments like that. But what to do next? Stage a fight and rescue Tony? Frame one of the Avengers? Ask Tony out on a date? No. That was all too much too soon. He needed to take things slow. Let their relationship develop naturally. He had all the time in the world, after all. Why waste it on premature advances that would only end in disaster?

A soft knock at his door tore him from his thoughts. He snapped his journal shut and jumped towards the middle of the room, assuming a meditative position.

“Come in,” he called.

The door cracked open and Tony peeked in, sad eyes curious and analytical.

“Hey Doc. Am I, uh, interrupting?” he asked. Stephen shot him a dazzling smile.

“Oh I always have time for you, Stark.” Tony blushed a little at that. “What is it you wanted to talk about?”

“Well, after the whole Accords debacle, a lot of relationships kind of took a nosedive. Especially between me and Cap.”

Tony’s eyes flickered with darkness and Stephen grit his teeth. He hated seeing Tony sad. He couldn’t have his Starshine upset over an incompetent, 'roided up old man.

“Rightly so! He’s a fucking dick. What happened during the accords- he acted like a kindergartner.” Stephen spat. “Honestly, in my opinion, I think we should just stick him back in the ocean, see how he fares.”

Tony’s eyes widened with a beautiful shade of shock at the venom in his words.

“Oh.”

Maybe Stephen had gone a little too far with that.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, ducking his head in a pseudo-bashful form of submission. “I just hold no place in my heart for people who hurt those close to them. Trust is a beautiful and rare bond, and one that should never be broken.”

He watched with slow-burning interest as Tony’s eyes warmed over, the ice of his memories melting away in light of Stephen’s sweet vows. Stephen offered him a tiny smile, the offering of a peaceful future after the years of pain the genius had endured. Stephen watched as Tony’s cheeks pinkened, coloring his face of the amber dawn of a Santa Monica dream. He smiled back and leaned his head against the door frame, staring down at Stephen with flourishing interest. Perfect. He had sown the seeds of romantic propositions and now the sprouts were beginning to bud. If falling in love was like falling off a cliff, Stephen was going to take Tony’s hand and lead him to the edge before pushing him off into the warm waters below. Then, hand in hand, they would sink through the sea into the collective wonder of their chaos. The world had hurt them and for that, it would pay. All Stephen needed to do was get Tony close enough to coerce him off the edge and into his open arms.

“That’s a good philosophy. It’s nice to meet someone with decent morals for once,” Tony said, crossing his arms and watching Stephen with appreciation. Stephen had to bite back a laugh. His morals lacked all sense of direction at this point. He was about as far from ‘decent’ as one could get.

“Thank you. It’s less of a philosophy and more of an intolerance to jackasses.” Tony snorted at that. “But anyways, prior to my interruption, what were you going to say?”

“Well, because of this whole accords mess, Ross wants us to reforge our relationships. We don’t have to be friends, we just have to respect each other enough to protect the Earth from any attacks. And to do that, we’ve been trying to host small gatherings, fun events to try and smooth things over. Tonight we’re going to have a movie night. I just wanted to let you know in case you, uh, wanted to bounce or come hang out or something, seeing as you kinda live here now,” Tony explained, rubbing the back of his neck bashfully. “It’s not just the Cap, and his guys. I know a bunch of the more chill guys are coming too. Bruce, Natasha, Rhodey, Peter-”

All of Stephen’s thoughts ground to a halt and suddenly how much he missed Peter hit him like a train. Peter was coming? He hadn’t seen the spiderling in… it had to have been five weeks now. And how much he missed him. His bubbly jokes, his incessant positivity, his eagerness to try as hard as he could- there truly was no one who could rival his incredible personality. Stephen had been so focused on recovering the love of his life that he had almost completely forgotten the third member of their beautiful family. The sticky webbing that held them all together.

But he had to start their relationship from scratch again. He needed to build a foundation between them, and from there he could build towers of ambition and darkness. But first he needed to meet the boy he longed to call son. It would be hard, though, seeing Peter again and resisting the urge to scoop him up in his arms and protect him from the horrors of society. He would persevere, though. He had too if he wanted his family to be whole again.

“Yeah! I’d love to come,” Stephen blurted. “It’ll be a great opportunity to introduce myself to the other Avengers. Besides, even if they act like children, I’m sure it won’t be too bad if you’re there to keep me company,” he finished with a cheeky wink.

Tony laughed. “You never cease to surprise me, Stephen.”  
“I’ll take that as a complement.”

“Sure thing, doc. Movie’s at eight. Feel free to wear something casual.”

“What? Are robes and a cloak not common street-wear?” Stephen joked. Tony rolled his eyes.

“Oh come on, you’re wearing like, fifteen layers. How are you not dying of heatstroke?!”

Stephen wiggled his eyebrows and waved his hands, sending a harmless cascade of golden sparks tumbling from his fingers.

“Magic.”

Tony stared down at him in amusement. “I can’t tell if you’re joking or not,” he giggled. Heat rose to Stephen’s cheeks. Tony looked so much younger, so much softer, when he laughed.

“Nah. I just get cold easily.”

Tony’s eyes twinkled like twin nebulas in the sepia sky of an old photograph. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He straightened up and turned to leave, shooting Stephen one last carefully flirtatious smile. “I think, for once, I’m actually look forward to spending time with another superhero.”

Stephen couldn’t help the giddy smile that rose to his face. His heart was beating painfully fast against the cage of his ribs, each thud sending tiny shivers of excitement through his body. The door closed behind Tony and Stephen turned back to his meditative stance, memories of their tiny isolated trio of tragedy rushing through his head. He missed the days they had painted the city black and red and gold, bonded together by the exchange of their missing pieces. And soon they would be together again. Stephen was sure of it.

They may not have been tangible, but memories were still good. Still perfect to flip through.

The day he met Peter was the day he fell in love a second time. He may not have known it then, but Peter, that incredible ray of sunshine, would be the third and final member to their unholy trinity.

Stephen had told Tony they needed more superheroes by their side if they were to stand a chance against the renegade Avengers. Making the world bow before them had been one thing, especially with the iron legion on their side. It was another to defeat the tiny, albeit powerful swell of insurgent superheros intent on fighting back with their outdated concepts of ‘good’ and ‘evil.’ Indeed, no matter how dumb the other heroes were, with their morals and their ridiculous, tattered, star spangled leader, they were admittedly quite strong. They were the only thing that was standing between them and complete chaos. Stephen was determined to bring them to their knees. And to do that, they needed enough power to rival a whole team. So Tony had said he’d look into it.

But Stephen hadn’t expected him to come back with a teenager who looked like he’d never fought a day in his life.

Stephen had returned to the tower after a long day traversing the Duat, communing with the spirits of discord and night. It had been… eventful to say the least. Old Egyptian gods were always the most stubborn. He had returned home covered in sand, the nerves in his hands tight and pinching and crackling with red chaos magic, eagerly awaiting a long hot bath and the promise of letting go of all his stress as he fell into the love of his life’s warm embrace. What he saw, however, was unexpected, yet not unwelcome.

He portaled into the lobby of Stark tower, covered in sand and a slight sunburn, to find his husband, vivacious and talkative as usual, with his arm on the shoulder of a bright eyed teenager who was smiling like he had won the lottery. Tony spotted him and waved him over, smile brighter than the sun.

“Stephen! Babe! Come meet the newest member of our team!” Tony called, voice bubbly and excited.

Stephen crossed over and scanned the kid up and down. He didn’t look like much. Skinny, nerdy, a little jumpy- kind of like an excited puppy. Could he really fight by their sides? Was that safe? The kid stuck out his hand and Stephen shook it, startled by the strength of the kid’s grip. He stared up at Stephen with wide, brown puppy dog eyes that could rival Tony’s.

“Hi! I’m Peter Parker! What’s your name?”

Stephen had to push down his smile at the teen’s enthusiasm.

“Dr. Stephen Strange.”

“Wait! Right! Made up names! I forgot about those. I’m Spiderman!” He looked over at Tony, eyes widening in panic. “Oh crap! I think I just gave away my secret identity!”

Tony smiled and patted the kid’s back.

“Don’t worry about it, Peter. You can trust him. I know I do.”

“Oh! Okay then! It’s nice to meet you, Dr. Strange!”

Stephen smiled. There was something special about this kid. 

“It’s nice to meet you too.”

They spent the rest of the day giving Peter a tour of the tower and explaining how, under the Stark ‘internship,’ he would be trained by both of them, and eventually, when they deemed it so, graduate into a full-fledged member of their team. It wasn’t quite the peaceful evening in that Stephen had anticipated, but it was still quite enjoyable. Seeing the look of wonder on Peter’s face as they went room to room was just as nice as snuggling up on the couch and watching a movie with Tony. Stephen could see why he had chosen Peter. The fourteen year old had almost limitless energy. He was ridiculously smart and eager to please, and it was clear that he idolized Tony. It would be easy to mold all that energy and potential into something capable of destruction. All he needed was the proper tutelage. But as Stephen watched Tony introduce Peter to FRIDAY, his heart squeezed and he couldn’t help but feel a longing beyond his desire for their endgame.

The next time Stephen saw Peter was one rainy day where Tony had been held up in a planning session with Rhodey and Pepper on the deployment of a new round of police enforcement suits. Rain lashed against the vast windows of the candle-filled living room as Stephen meditated. He was just beginning to relax into his astral state, marks glowing red on his forehead, when the elevator doors had opened to reveal a sopping wet and shivering Peter Parker. The teenager had spotted the Doctor and quieted his movements, probably with a little bit of fear (Stephen was pretty damn intimidating after all), and made his way towards the lab.

“Tony’s not back yet.”

“Ah! Mr. Dr. Strange!” Peter cried, jumping at the sound of Stephen’s voice. “I’m so sorry for interrupting your meditation, sir!”

Stephen smiled, standing up and flexing his hands. The cold always made his fingers stiff. “Don’t worry. You weren’t interrupting. However, I am afraid that Tony is currently held up in a meeting. He told me to keep you busy until he got back.”

Peter’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. “Woah! How did you know that? Was it telepathy? A magical spell? Future vision?”

“He texted me.” Stephen said with a smile, holding up his phone. Peter’s ears pinkened and he looked down. Once more, Stephen was charmed by Peter’s excitement towards their work.

“Oh. Right.”

“Don’t worry. I’m flattered.” Peter’s embarrassment vanished and he beamed up at Stephen once more. “Would you like to know more about magic while we wait for Tony?”

“Absolutely!” Peter cried.

“Great. Now come with me. We’re going to change you out of these wet clothes and get you something warm to drink. We can’t have our prodigy getting sick, now, can we?”

They spent the next hour or so gathered around the kitchen counter with cups of hot chocolate and a plate of warm cookies Stephen had popped in the oven talking about Stephen’s role as Sorcerer Supreme and the three sanctums and how he used their power to aid in their ruling of the world. He explained magic and the layers of reality, the followers of Agamotto, his artifacts like the eye and globe of the long deceased aforementioned sorcerer, and the dark arts. Peter absorbed it all with rapt attention. Never, even back before he’d met Tony and was still training acolytes at Kamar-Taj, had he had a student so genuinely interested in his teachings. Peter’s eagerness warmed his heart.

“After hearing all of this,” he said, watching Peter carefully. “How do you feel about trying to learn some magic? Nothing crazy advanced, just some of the basics. Portals, easy tracking spells, combat magic, etc.”

Peter’s eyes lit up like the sun shining down and reflecting off the winter snow.

“Oh my God! That would be incredible!” he cried.

Stephen smiled and pulled his sling ring from his belt pocket.

“Normally I’d have you start with some meditation and a few light reading assignments, but I suppose it couldn’t hurt to jump right in. Now come with me to the living room and I’ll teach you the basic movements of opening a portal. How does that sound?”

“Awesome!”  
About an hour later Tony returned to find the two side by side in the living room, Peter trying with all his effort to will a portal to spring from the circular motions of his hands. He had gotten a few sparks at one point, but beyond that he was still having difficulty. However, through the whole process, he stayed upbeat and willing, enthusiasm never once curbed. Stephen felt his appreciation for the teenager growing as he attacked the problem with relentless positivity, staying by his side and coaxing him to try again, encouraging him to focus and tap deep into his soul to unhinge the gate that opened inwards into his river of power.

Tony leaned against the door frame, smiling as he watched Stephen steady Peter’s hands, the boy’s face screwed up in concentration, tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth. The care and grace in which Stephen taught impressed Tony, and his heart thumped painfully at the sight of his beloved caring for his prodigy with such gentle responsibility and concentration.

Shortly after, they added magic lessons to Peter’s agenda.

It was their first battle together that truly revealed another side of Peter. He had grown considerably stronger in the past year or so, utilizing both his natural gift of combat alongside his newfound magical prowess to create a truly respectable fighter, and after many months of begging and pleading, the two finally let him accompany them in a battle against a few of the Avengers. Stephen was sure the rogues would be surprised with their new addition to their tightly knit team, but what he wasn’t expecting was for every single one of them to target Peter. The kid dodged every attack, yet it was clear that the onslaught was slowly wearing him down. Stephen and Tony stuck by his side as much as they could, but there were simply too many for them to keep back. The final blow, however, came from the Scarlet Witch, not in the form of magic, but in a bullet from one of the winter soldier’s discarded guns. Stephen had turned his back for one minute, distracted by the star-spangled idiot only to hear Peter’s terrified cry of alarm. He turned around and time seemed to slow around him.

The witch had him at gunpoint, eyes glowing with fury, and Peter was pinned in place, stuck between Banner and Falcon. The teen was completely vulnerable. With a muted yell and the last of his magical energy, Stephen dove forwards, folding space around his form and teleporting directly in front of the witch. He wrapped his already scarred hands around the barrel of the gun, biting his tongue as the shot rang out like a shelf of ice sloughing away from a glacier and tumbling into the icy waters below. He wrenched the weapon from her hands and stumbled backwards, blood gushing from the palm of his hand. He clutched his wrist, pain shooting up his broken nerves in relentless waves. His head spun, pain painting the world around him a dull shade of pastel.

An angry cry sounded from behind him, and Stephen watched as Peter, who had been frozen mere minutes ago, jumped up, pushing himself off the wall behind him and launching himself at Scarlet Witch. He portaled behind her and shot a string of taser webs straight at the small of her back and Stephen let out a pained giggle as she shuddered sporadically, eyes rolling back in her head. Peter shot another volley of webs around her, trapping her hands together and rendering her powers useless. She screamed and the Captain turned, eyes widening.

“Wanda! No!”

She let out a strangled cry as Peter wrapped another length of web tight around her throat, choking her.

“Don’t touch my dad!” he spat, voice vicious and cruel.

Stephen watched as Rodgers lunged forwards, but before he could reach her, a blade of red and gold protruded from her stomach, slick with blood as red as her magic. She blinked twice, the light in her eyes rapidly fading. She coughed, and Tony pulled the nanite blade from her back. Peter let go of her bindings and she collapsed to the ground, blood dribbling from her lips.

All movement around them stilled and the Avengers backed away, all rushing towards the witch’s prone form. Tony kicked her body aside and marched through the fire and rubble to Stephen, retracting his helmet and latching his arms around the sorcerers neck to press a frantic kiss to Stephen’s cold lips. Stephen’s stomach erupted into a flood of butterflies. Tony’s kiss, Tony’s  _ desperation _ , tasted sweet on Stephen’s tongue.

They pulled away and Stephen turned back to their opponents, watching as the Captain gathered Wanda’s body in his arms and the group retreated, sending fearful looks back at the trio.

Peter bounded over, pulling away his mask to reveal big brown eyes full of panic and tears. He wrapped his arms around Stephen’s torso hard enough to push the man back a few feet. Stephen chuckled and patted the kids back with his good hand, overwhelmingly relieved that Peter was safe. He would sacrifice himself any day to keep his spiderling away from harm.

“Oh my God! I’m so sorry Dr. Strange! Are you okay?” Peter cried.

Stephen smiled, trying to ignore the pain in his hand. He stumbled a little, swaying on his feet. It was astonishing how much blood one could lose in such a short period of time, especially from such a small wound. He leaned into Peter’s support, and he could numbly feel Tony’s arm wrapped around his shoulder, keeping him steady.

“I-I’ll be okay. The bullet definitely hit my palmar artery and I think it dislodged one of my internal fixations, which punctured the lower part of my radial artery,” he muttered, vision starting to blur. “I’m bleeding out.”

“What do we do?” Tony asked, voice dangerously tense.

“Nothing you can,” Stephen slurred, vision fading by the second. “Just get Christine. She’ll know what to do.”

He slumped backwards, blinking rapidly as he fought to stay conscious. His vision tunneled backwards until all he could see were Tony and Peter’s terrified faces seconds before he blacked out.

The surgery went smoothly. He knew Tony wasn’t a big fan of Christine, what with knowing the woman had once held deep feelings for the Doctor, but if Stephen trusted her to operate on him he would as well. She removed the bullet, which had lodged itself halfway through his carpals right up against one of his internal fixations. After that she cauterized the laceration and stitched up the cut, finally wrapping a bandage tight around the wound before releasing him back to his family.

A few days later saw Stephen sitting in the kitchen with a cup of tea, flexing his fingers to regulate the even further damaged blood flow of his hand. He sighed. He was no stranger to pain, but this was even worse than normal. But he couldn’t bring himself to regret a thing. To save Peter, he would do it again in a heartbeat.

“Hey… Dr. Da- I mean, Dr. Strange?”

Stephen looked up. Peter was standing in the doorway biting his lip, guilt splashed across his face.

“Yeah kiddo?”

“I was, uh, I was wondering how your hand was doing,” Peter mumbled. Stephen smiled and patted the seat next to him. Peter slid onto the bench, pointedly avoiding eye-contact.

“It’s fine.” Peter bit his lip. Stephen let out a long sigh. “Peter, you don’t need to feel guilty. This was all our fault. It was too soon for you to join us on the battlefield. It was my duty to keep you safe, Peter. And I don’t regret a thing. You’re important to us, not just as Spiderman, but as a member of our family. We care about you, Peter. I don’t know what I’d do if you got hurt.”

Peter smiled softly.

“Thanks Dr. Strange. That was-” He took a deep shuddering breath. “That was scary. And when you collapsed- I had no idea what to do. And I know you used to be a doctor. So, uh, if I’m going to help you guys take down the rebels, could I maybe have some first aid lessons? I just want to make sure everyone stays safe.” Peter looked down at his hands, tracing patterns across the counter top. “You and Mr. Stark are the closest thing I’ve really had to parents since my mom and dad died. And I want to make sure you guys stay safe. You’re really important to me too.”

Stephen smiled. “I’d love too.” Peter grinned, bright eyes full of gratitude.

“Thanks Dr. Strange.”

“You don’t have to call me that, you know. I think we’re a little ways beyond formalities.”

“Okay. So what should I call you?”

“Whatever you want.”

Peter’s cheeks pinkened. “Then can I, uh, can I call you Dr. Dad?”

Stephen smiled, warmth spreading through him. Dr. Dad. He liked the sound of that.

“I would love that.”

“So, how’s school going Peter?” Stephen asked, watching as the teen dug into his pasta.

They had defeated another Avenger, and one of the hardest, in Stephen’s opinion. But after some tinkering and consultation between their two spheres of science- biology and engineering- Banner hadn’t stood a chance. Still, his untethered rage was reason for fear. There was something terrifying about the primal, how the Hulk’s eyes had shown with the ancient darkness of superego smothered by id. To celebrate their success, however small in the grand scheme of things, Tony had insisted on taking them out for what Stephen liked to think of as a ‘family dinner.’ Now they were sitting in the dimly lit room of a fancy restaurant, staff eager to cater to the every whim of their twisted oligarchs.

It never failed to impress Stephen with how much restraint Tony had showed as he took over the world. Every system was still in place. Subways still ran, schools stayed in session, buses were just as late as usual; no, the only real difference was that Tony and Stephen had supreme reign over every government in the world. At first Stephen had questioned Tony’s actions, but the genius had dismissed his confusion, explaining that the world would only end once the Avengers were done with. Destroying the Earth city by city, now that was boring and drawn out. Watching the entirety of civilization crumble all at once, however, was far more satisfying. So for the time being, before acid and smoke filled the air, Stephen would indulge in the domesticity he found in days like this.

“It’s going awesome! Ned and I have been working on building a Lego Deathstar- he got it for his birthday- and our decathlon team, well, MJ’s been working us like crazy, not that I’m complaining, and I think we really stand a chance at internationals this year! We have our first tournament against-”

Stephen smiled as he watched Peter ramble on, glad to see the teen so happy. He knew that Peter had had some trouble at school in the previous months, namely with a kid named Flash. But things between the two seemed to smooth out after Stephen had paid the bastard a visit and given him a few words of advice while dangling him from the top of the Chrysler building. Ever since then Peter had seemed happier, more carefree, a fact that eased Stephen’s worries. He knew that high school could be rough, and he wanted Peter to remember these years and smile.

Tony, who currently had his face buried in his cheeseburger, seemingly intent on taking the biggest bite humanly possible, nodded along and laughed, a sound that soothed all of Stephen’s worries. Days like this were perfect. They were a family. A trio that had each other’s backs through thick and thin, and those were the relationships that Stephen knew he could never bear to part with.

“Honestly, everything’s pretty awesome right now!” Peter said. Then his face shifted and annoyance found its way into his warm eyes. “I just wish school wasn’t so far away. I have to wake up so early and take the subway and I can’t just portal in- it just kinda sucks,” he mumbled.

“Hey isn’t your school near Stark Tower, kid?” Tony asked, mouth full.

“Yeah? Why?”

“Well why don’t you just stay with us during the week?” Tony suggested.

“Yeah! Your lessons would be easier and you could walk to school,” Stephen added.

“Besides, your aunt’s a busy woman. I’m sure she could use some down time,” Tony finished.

“Oh my gosh! Really?” Peter cried, eyes shining brighter than all the stars in his side. “That would be incredible!”

“Then that seals the deal, kid. Welcome to Stark Tower!” Tony said, smile blindingly bright.

A different side of Tony came out when he spent time with Peter, Stephen noticed. Whenever he even so much as saw the kid, all the anger and hatred and darkness seemed to drain from his body, replaced by pure joy and pride. And Stephen knew how he felt. He was the same exact way with the spiderling. It was just weird to see his love so light and carefree, like the entire world didn’t fear his wrath. But what surprised Stephen more than Tony’s affection, was how much Stephen enjoyed it. He loved the dark side of Tony, the side torn apart by hatred, the side dripping and viscous with wrath. The side that was undeniably hot, both in the bedroom as he forced Stephen to his knees, edging him relentlessly until he begged and pleaded, pleasure peaking as the sadistic gold of Tony’s eyes reached the breaking point, and on the battlefield when every slight against his family was met with pure, undiluted rage and bloody consequences.

But this new side of him was just so… different. Not worse, just different. The softness of his supportive gaze was just as enthralling as his dusk-born, bloody smiles, but in a new way. It was like comparing the present to the future. His lust was so solid, so tangible whereas this new paternal instinct was nebulous and vague; a promise to stand the winds of time in place of instant gratification. And Stephen liked it. He liked the thought of the three of them together. They were the perfect trio. The perfect family. The triangle was the strongest shape, after all, and their unity just provided further proof of that.

Stephen watched as Tony showed Peter what looked like a small metal box with a few weird cylinders inside. Peter gasped and let out a loud, fast string of exclamations, Tony nodding along and smiling with pride. Stephen may not have known much about all of Tony’s engineering stuff, but he loved watching the two so happy. Besides, he was the same whenever Peter came to the Sanctum. He adored showing Peter all the artifacts, delving deep into their history and uses. Tony may not have cared much for all his magical paraphernalia, but having Peter enjoy the mystic arts was a massive swell of pride for Stephen. He adored the child, how eager and earnest he was, how hard he worked to make them happy. He was an incredible kid, and Stephen was proud to hold his title as ‘Dr. Dad’ alongside Tony’s ‘Mr. Dad.’ Honestly, if the kid had one fault, it was his tendency to over-title everything and everyone.

The other, less trusted heroes Tony had recruited had started to notice their family dynamic as well. It came out most prominently when they were fighting.

On occasion, Tony would pull their allies from their stations across the world and assemble them to aid in a particularly harrowing fight. One such instance came a few months after the death of the Scarlet Witch. The rebels seemed to have realized that they were no longer just fighting for the last scraps of humanity’s hope and perseverance, but now their lives as well. They had doubled the force of their attacks, fighting faster and harder than they ever had before.

And much to Stephen’s dismay, they seemed to see Peter as an easy target. Even though the kid fought like a demon, he was still far smaller and lighter than the others, clearly meant for agility, not brute force. Part of Stephen also worried that they had worked out the deep connections between Peter, Tony, and Stephen, and that their attacks were strategic in nature instead of convenient. Whatever the cause, Peter needed protection, and Stephen was always there to fend off any attacks that got too close for his comfort. Peter was always so focused on his goal, so much so that he lost sight of the importance of self-preservation. That must have been a trait he got from Tony.

Stephen swooped down beside Peter, portaling the Captain’s shield, which was headed straight for Peter’s chest, away, sending it slamming into the Winter Soldier’s head. Peter may have been able to use portals on his own, but his reflexes were nowhere near as sharp as Stephen’s. Stephen waved his hand and the ribbons of his sash glowed red and shot out to wrap around the limbs of the surrounding Avengers, pulling their feet out from under them.

“Hey! Dr. Dad! I had that!” Peter protested, looking up at Stephen with wide eyes. Stephen raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“I’m sure you did, spiderling, but I’d rather be safe than sorry.”

A snicker sounded through Stephen’s earpiece and he let out a long sigh, calling up a set of basic battle runes to keep fighting.

“Aw, it’s cute how much you care about him, Stephen!” Natasha chuckled, effortlessly maintaining conversation as she went toe to toe with the Winter Soldier. “It’s nice to see a mama protect her kid.”

“Oh for the love of Dormammu’s dimensional doors, not this again,” Stephen groaned.

“Watch out Nat. You might make him go full mama bear mode on you,” Cling giggled.

Stephen felt his cheeks color. He could hear the others, including Tony, laughing through his headset.

“Oh shut up, Clint. Focus on fighting. You’re better at shooting than speaking,” he snapped.

“Ooh! You really stepped in it this time, Clint,” Rhodey said.

“I agree. The wrath of an angry Stephen Strange is nothing to mess with,” Natasha added, still kicking the Russian super-soldier’s ass.

“‘An angry Stephen Strange?’ You mean mama bear mode?” Clint snickered.

“Come on guys,” Stephen said. ‘I’m not that protective of- Peter watch out!”

He dove forward and grabbed Peter’s waist, portaling them out of the way. Half a second later the Winter soldier slammed into the wall Peter had been perched hard enough to crack the cement below. “Oh dear Vishanti, are you okay Peter? Did you hit your head? Have you broken anything?” Stephen blurted. Peter sat up, rubbing his head.

“Yeah! I’m fine mom!” Peter’s eyes widened and he clamped his hands over his mouth in shock. “Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry! I-I didn’t-” Peter coughed and the comms stayed silent for a second. Stephen closed his eyes in resolution.

“Don’t say it.”

Silence. A muted giggle, and then…

“Heh. Mama Bear strikes again.”

Stephen had hated that name at first. But after time… well, he had to admit it had grown on him a little. Not that he’d ever tell that to the others, of course. But part of him really liked caring for Peter. He loved the spiderling like he was his own, and he wanted to make sure he was safe and happy. And if that qualified him as a maternal figure in the boys life, well, who was he to argue? Besides, the title kind of fit into their family dynamic, their little bubble of warmth no insults could permeate.

“Peter’s doing really well,” Stephen said. “I wasn’t sure at first that he’d be able to balance his school work, his lessons, and his duties as Spiderman, but he’s handling it surprisingly well. I’m proud of him.”

“Yeah. He’s really coming along. I just-”

“Mr. Dad! Dr. Dad!” Peter exclaimed, bounding up to them.

“Yeah kid?” Tony asked, ruffling Peter’s hair. Peter pushed his arm away, patting down his mussed up hair with a big smile on his face.

“Mr. Dad! Hey!”

Stephen shot Tony an endearing glare. “Tony, behave yourself.”

Tony rolled his eyes and chuckled, raising his hands in mock surrender.

“Okay, okay,” he laughed. “I’m sorry! Now what’s up, kiddo?”

“Oh! I was just about to portal back to Aunt May’s and I figured I’d come and say goodbye first.”

Both Tony and Stephen’s faces fell. Ever since Peter had moved in with them during the week, it was harder and harder for them to say goodbye when he left every Friday. It was so easy to fall into their family dynamic, so easy to just pretend it was perfectly real. The chaos, domesticity, the warmth- it was like Peter really was their son. But every time he left (even if it was nice to have a little privacy, wink-wink, nudge nudge) it pulled them out of the illusion and back into reality. Stephen absentmindedly rubbed the bracelet at his wrist. He could feel Tony’s heartbeat speeding up. Tony was going to miss Peter just as much as Stephen was. After having him be a part of their family for so long it was hard to let him go, if even just for the weekend.

“Oh. Right.” Tony’s voice was tight.

Stephen tried to smile, but it came out tight and forced. “Have fun, spiderling. Say hi to your aunt for us,” he said.

Peter beamed and hugged them both one last time before pulling out the red and blue sling ring Stephen and Tony had made him for his birthday and portaling into his apartment in Queens. Stephen watched him go, his heart twisting painfully as he waved and smiled at Peter’s retreating back.

Stephen let out a long sigh. He knew Peter wasn’t really their son, but Stephen still loved every second they could act as his dads. The world just seemed so much brighter with their spiderling around. Tony was happier, he was happier- everything just seemed perfect. Stephen couldn’t lie to himself anymore. He truly wished Peter could stay with them forever.

The portal closed and Stephen dropped his smile. He rubbed his head, trying to find light in the darkness surrounding them. The tower was so quiet, absent of Peter’s laughter and optimism.

“I miss him already,” Tony muttered. Stephen sighed again and leaned back against the kitchen counter, hands aching dully.

“I know.”

There was a tense second of silence. Stephen could feel Tony’s heartbeat speed up and he looked over at his love curiously. He could tell Tony was thinking, his deep brown eyes narrowed in concentration, mind racing a million miles an hour.

“Then maybe we should do something about it,” Tony suggested. Stephen frowned, dreading the words to come.

“What do you mean, Tony?”

“Well, we both want Peter to stay with us, right? So why don’t we do something about it?” Tony murmured, eyes bleeding from sad to cunning. Stephen shifted uncomfortably.

“I don’t like where this is going.”

“Who cares? He’s  _ our  _ son. And we both want to keep him forever, don’t we? And what’s the last thing tying him down to his old life?”

A shiver ran down Stephen’s spine and he stared at Tony, appalled.

“Aunt May?! You can’t be serious.”

“It’ll be fine,” Tony promised. “It’s not like he’ll be all on his own. He’ll have us! You know how much he cares about us, right? We’re the closest thing he’s had to parents since, y’know. Aunt May, she’d nice and all, but she’s keeping him from reaching his full potential. Now if May were to, I don’t know, fall into the hands of the Avengers, well, who would she have wanted to look after Peter in the event that she died? Surely she’d trust us, Peter’s mentors and guardians.” Tony leaned close, looping his arm around Stephen’s waist. “So what do you say, Stephen?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Tony traced his fingers up and down Stephen’s arm, stopping at the red bracelet at Stephen’s wrist. His fingers, feather light and sweet, danced over the band of heartbeat millimeters from Stephen’s pulse.

“Aw come on, Steph. You know it’s a good idea. We’d take good care of him; help him reach his full potential. You realize how much faster we’ll be able to tear reality apart with his help? We’re a good duo, but perfection requires our final missing piece. We need Peter.” Tony’s eyes darkened like the fog of a summer dusk and he stood on his tip toes and leaned in close to Stephen, whispering in his ear. “I know you care about him just as much as I do. I see how much you love him,  _ Mama Bear _ .”

Stephen shivered at his words, hands shaking more than usual.

“Tony…”

“Remember what I told you when we first met, darling? ‘In a society where all adventure has been destroyed…’” Tony trailed off and Stephen leaned into the warmth of his presence.

“‘The only adventure left is to destroy society.’”

Tony smiled, blinding and beautiful. Stephen looked away, trying to find anything other than the reason in Tony’s eyes.

“Exactly. So what do you say, Angel?”

“I-I’ll think about it.”

Nothing happened for several months. They stayed the same, Peter living in Stark tower during the week only to return home on the weekend. Neither Tony or Stephen spoke of it again. They didn’t need to. The heavy and unspoken words followed them everywhere. Stephen hated the idea. He couldn’t bring himself to knowingly take the life of someone Peter cared about. But at the same time, that delicate, undeniable ‘what if’ hovered in the back of his mind, no matter how much he tried to get rid of it. But he managed to temp it down, push it as far back into his mind as he could bear. He could never kill May. He was sure of it.

But one day, that all changed.

There had been a disturbance in Queens, this one not provoked by the Avengers, but rather the last remaining sorcerers of Vishanti. Peter had been at school that day, so Tony and Stephen had answered the alarm by themselves. Granted that was all they needed. Tony may have been apprehensive of magic, but with their combination of technology and Stephen’s incredible mystical strength, they made easy work. Except for one.

“Stephen! You can’t do this! You know this is wrong!”

A flash of orange. Yellow robes. A wall of shattered mirror.

Stephen raised his arms, crossing them sharply, twisting his hands counterclockwise, and muttering an ancient incantation under his breath. The portal to the mirror dimension evaporated, melting into a fine, lavender mist that dissolved as soon as it hit the ground. He thrust his hand forwards and summoned a red tangible rune, tossing it like a discus towards the hooded figure before him. She waved her hands and it dissolved into quartz, then melted into air.

“Why are you doing this? What has you so enamored that you wish to see the destruction of this world?” The figure lowered her hood, revealing a face young in appearance but aged far beyond time itself. The old sorcerer supreme. The Ancient One. Stephen grit his teeth, resuming his battle stance. “The Stephen I remember longed for self-realization, not self-destruction.” She tilted her head. “What happened?”

“Stop,” Stephen growled.

“You were going to be the best of us. The most powerful sorcerer supreme of all time. What happened? What led you down this path of darkness?”

“Shut up.”

“Your soul was so pure. Broken and isolated, yet trusting. You had so much potential. All you needed was the right person to guide you. We were supposed to be those people, Stephen. We were supposed to help you along your path of light, aid you in your journey to good. What happened? What led you astray?  _ Who _ let you astray?”

“Shut up!” he snarled, eyes flashing pure red.

The rune on his forehead glowed and he summoned all of his power, bending the energy in the air into an explosion. The street burst apart, rubble and stone flying every which way. The Ancient one remained stoic, unphased by his outburst.

“Stephen, I will not fight you. I refuse to attack someone with a soul as broken as yours,” she said, stepping closer to him. Stephen froze in face of his old teacher. She took one of his trembling hands in hers. “You have been torn down again and again, and each time you have risen and rebuilt your fortress of thorns. I thought we finally managed to dispel your hatred and bring you into the light, but someone stole your heart before we could finish mending it. Remember the man you used to be. Do you truly want this? Are these actions truly your own?”

“Shut up! You hold no bearing over me!” he growled.

He pushed her away, forging red runes from thin air and snapping the bands like a whip. The air behind his blows burned with fire. He dove at her and she stepped away, using her sling ring to jump through a portal onto a nearby fire escape. She was running. Good. Now he could finally wipe her miserable, ‘all-knowing’ soul from this godforsaken planet. Then they would be one step closer to victory. Stephen was about to pull out his sling ring to follow her, when a shout from behind stopped him.

“Babe! Stand back! I’ve got this!”

Tony flew past and shot a volley of missiles at the Ancient One. The building exploded, fire and smoke engulfing the block, but Stephen ran forwards. Seconds before the blast he had seen her raise a glowing orange shield. She was still alive. He slingring-ed into the ruin right to the place she had stood and let out an angry cry as he saw the telltale sparks of a closing portal splash across the rubble.

She was gone. They had failed. And now…

“H-help!”

Stephen turned, eyes widening at the sound of a woman’s voice. Not the Ancient One, no. Someone far more familiar and far less powerful. Aunt May. He looked around frantically. He knew they were in Queens, but this close to Peter’s apartment? He must not have realized how far they had come. He pushed his way through the wreckage of a wall and into a ruined living room. He recognized it instantly. He had portalled into this room countless times to retrieve Peter’s forgotten homework. Sure enough, it was their spiderling’s apartment. And that woman…

He ran into the next room, this one almost completely destroyed, and stopped dead in his tracks.

There, pinned under several tons worth of cement and stone, was May. The entirety of her lower body was completely crushed, but she was still alive and conscious. Her hair was tangled, matted, and grey with stone dust. A tiny trail of blood traced her brow line. She stared up at Stephen with wide, desperate eyes.

“O-oh thank God! Doctor Strange! P-please! Get Peter- or help, or something!” she gasped, lungs rattling.

Stephen couldn’t move. He stared down at her, eyes full of premature regret.

“Stephen! What’s going on? Why’d you go quiet?” Tony’s voice sounded through his comm.

“It’s May.”

“Oh.” There was a pause, and Stephen could practically feel the smile creeping up Tony’s face. “You know what needs to be done.”

“D-Doctor Strange? What’s- what’s going on?” May sputtered.

“Tony I don’t think I can-”

“Shh, It’s okay Angel. Everything will be fine. Just think about our family. Think about Peter. Think about me.”

Stephen scrunched his eyes closed and knelt before May. He opened his eyes to look at her one last time, vision blurred by tears. She stared up at him, eyes wide, confused, and so, so blissfully naive. At least her end would be painless. A tear dripped down his cheek and splattered against the dusty, cracked stone beneath him. He pressed two fingers to the middle of her forehead.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice barely louder than the red crackle of his magic.

The light drained from her eyes and she slumped forwards, body motionless and still. Stephen fell to his knees, dropping his head as tears poured down his cheeks. What had he done?

Telling Peter his aunt had died was one of the hardest things Stephen had ever done in his life. Having to lie about it was even worse. The kid took it gracefully, but Stephen saw some of the light that he loved so much drain from his son’s eyes. He could only imagine how Peter felt. First his parents, now Aunt May- everyone close to him had died. And Stephen was responsible.

Peter, as Tony predicted, moved in with them almost immediately. Despite what they had done, despite the trust they had unknowingly betrayed, Stephen couldn’t help but notice that Peter seemed to perk up whenever they were around. He may have been devastated, but the soft comfort and the steady support he and Tony offered was definitely helping. But Tony…

Memories of all the things Tony had said rang in Stephen’s head.

_ ‘I’m so sorry, kid. I can’t believe this happened.’ ‘Aunt May was a wonderful woman. She didn’t deserve this.’ ‘This is why we need to eradicate the world of those terrible sorcerers. See how much pain they bring?’ ‘We’ll avenge her, Pete, I promise. We’ll make them all bow before us. Just you wait.’ _

Stephen wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Every time Tony whispered his promises in Peter’s ear the teen’s eyes darkened, bloodlust for revenge overwhelming the natural beauty of his eager, earnest demeanor. But he was theirs. He was finally their son, and that almost made everything worth it. But no matter how much Stephen loved their family, he couldn’t shake the last few dregs of doubt from his mind.

“I still feel bad about it,” Stephen whispered. Tony wrapped a gentle arm around his shoulders and Stephen leaned into his embrace, smiling as he pressed a kiss to Stephen’s forehead.

“There’s nothing to feel bad about, babe. You did what you had too.” Tony licked his lips, eyes glittering playfully. “You need to stop pouting. Grief isn’t a good look on you. Where’s the beautiful, snarky, smartass I adore?”

He pressed a kiss to Stephen’s neck and Stephen giggled, all his remorse slowly dissolving. If Tony said it was okay then surely it was. He let himself relax into the warmth of Tony’s embrace, smiling as the love of his life painted gentle admissions of his love into Stephen’s collarbone. Then Tony paused, hovering over Stephen’s sweet spot before leaning in and sucking hard, nipping the fragile skin with his teeth. Stephen had to bite back a lewd moan.

“Tony…”

“C’mon, baby, you’re so tense. You need to relax. Tonight, all I want is to watch as your eyes melt as you come over and over again, your beautiful mind overcome only by bliss as I fuck you gently,” Tony purred.

Stephen keened, the sound high-pitched and needy in the quiet calm of their living room. Beneath the blanket draped over them Stephen let his hips grind forwards, Tony’s hand steadily creeping up Stephen’s thigh.

“Tony…”

“What do you want, baby?”

“I want you to-”

His words were cut off by the muffled sound of footsteps. They jumped apart, faces flushed bright red. Peter shuffled into the room in his pajamas, hair messy from sleep. He yawned, rubbing his eyes before he noticed his two guardians watching.

“Oh! Dad! Dr. Dad! What are you still doing up?” he cried, guilt seeping into his tone.

“We were watching a movie,” Tony said, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow. “Now the real question is what are you still doing up?”

Peter’s eyes darkened and he looked down, rubbing his arms.

“I-I had a nightmare and I couldn’t get back to sleep. I was going to go get something to drink, see if that helps.”

Stephen’s heart melted. He stood, all thoughts of sex vanishing in the face of comforting his son. He crossed over to Peter and placed a gentle, supportive hand on his shoulder, leading him into the kitchen. Peter seemed so small, in the moment, energy quiet and soft.

“Here. Come with me. We’ll get you something to drink.” Peter smiled, appreciation filling his soft doe eyes. Stephen shot him a lopsided, bittersweet smile. “I know how you feel. I had nightmares for months after I crashed my car. A glass of milk with a little honey always helped.”

He helped Peter mix his drink and they walked back to his room together. Stephen watched as Peter set the glass on his nightstand and pulled his blankets into a burrito around him. Stephen turned off the lights and smiled, starting to turn away.

“Dr. Dad? Could you uh, could you tell me a story?” Peter asked, pointedly avoiding eye contact. “I mean, it’s alright if you don’t want to, I know I’m a little old and all, but I just kind of hoped-”

“Of course, spiderling. Anything for you.” Stephen sat down on the edge of Peter’s bed, smiling down at the teenager. “What do you want to hear about?”

“I dunno. I guess I want to hear more about you. Can you tell me a story about your life?”

The teen’s eyes were already heavy with sleep.

“Of course.” Stephen thought for a second, then the perfect idea popped into his head. “Oh! You’ll love this one. Back when I first started medical school, in my freshman year of college, I was working on earning both my masters and my doctorate at the same time, and let me tell you-”

A loud snore interrupted him and Stephen smiled. Well that had done the trick. Stephen stood and brushed the hair away from Peter’s face, pressing a gentle kiss on his forehead. He straightened up and began to leave, pausing momentarily in the doorway. Peter looked so peaceful, curled up in his bed, the only hint of turmoil in his life being the tiny frown permanently etched into his eyes. The smile faded from Stephen’s face. Peter was finally theirs. But was it really worth the sacrifice? Stephen turned away, quietly closing the door and pushing his doubts as far down as he could muster. Everything would be fine. They were made for each other, after all. They were the perfect family, and nothing could stand in the way of them now.

That had been the last time Stephen had seen Peter free from the violent shades of cruelty that colored both Tony and Stephen’s souls. All three of them had been forged by loss, forged by the hatred others bore for them. He supposed that’s why they worked so well together, after all. All three of them had been through so much, lost so much, it was only a matter of time before they wanted the world at its knees for them, wanted to see it burn.

Peter and Tony stood by his side, their warm brown eyes two twin sets of darkness. Peter, whose heart had once held nothing but eager hope and earnest devotion to Tony, was now cold and cruel. The world had been merciless to him and he had finally snapped, letting go of the cliff and falling into the welcome waters of destruction. He wanted the world to burn, to pay for all it had done to spite him, every loss, every hurdle, every battle. It had all built up into an undeniable force that scared even Stephen. But it was just what they needed.

There was only one Avenger left now. The Captain. They had torn apart the rebels piece by piece until all that stood in the way of them and their happy ending was Steve Rodgers. Time had not been kind to him. First he had lost the entirety of his old life, forced to live out his days decades from the world he knew. Then, they’d made him watch as they tore everyone he cared about him away, stripping down the team until all that was left was its leader. They’d taken his world, his friends, even the love of his life- his Winter Soldier- and left him with nothing but a broken shield and determination. Steve had lost everything while Tony and Stephen and Peter had only gained.

But this was the final battle. This was the day they finally knocked the Captain down from his broken throne and let him die. Let him join all his friends in another world. This was the day they would gut the universe, laughing as its entrails and gore spilled across the canvas of life, painting the world around them a vicious shade of red and blue.

Stephen smiled, standing side by side with the love of his life and his dear son. The rest of their team, Natasha, Clint, Rhodey- they had long since been disposed of, sacrificed for a spell to grant Peter the power of Dormammu. It was just the three of them now, standing across the bloody battlefield from the lone Captain.

This was it. One last fight and the three of them would be happy forever.

Stephen couldn’t wait.

Stephen buried his head in his hands, sinking into his bed. He’d been so naive. And now he was stuck here, in a dimension where only good prevailed and nothing made sense. He was stuck here all alone. All he could do as loneliness slowly ate away at him was cling to these new versions, these shadows, of the people he loved. He had to cling on to Tony. And soon he would have Peter, too. He smiled through the tears welling in his eyes. He was going to see his son tonight. They would be a family again. Stephen wiped his eyes, trying to push away his tears. He needed to focus. He needed to remake his family with all the venom and darkness they’d possessed before. It would be a long and arduous process, but it would be worth it when his sun and his star were standing by his side once more. Then they would finally have their happy ending.

Stephen could hardly wait.

But in the meantime, in the meantime he needed to get ready for the movie night. The first part of his plan was to seduce Tony, and perhaps, at the same time, talk to Peter, show him some of the fatherly affection the teen so desperately needed. Two things easier said than done, but at the same time, Stephen’s determination to find his happy ending overcame any and all worldly limitations. They would be happy. He would make sure of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell my any theories you have and what you think about the characters! I'm really interested to hear what you guys think!
> 
> Chapter name's from 'Safe & Sound' by Taylor Swift


	6. Our Love Was Made for Movie Screens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet Peter #2!!! Whoo! Also, shovel talk and fighting and a whole bunch of bullshit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long I got really busy and I'm sick, so my life is a bit of a mess rn, sorry. :(

Stephen finished buttoning his shirt, leaving a few spaces open to show off a tantalizing glimpse of collarbone. He clipped a thin golden necklace sparking with runes around his neck, close to his skin, but not quite tight enough to be a choker. He stepped back and took a look at himself. In a silk, wine-red shirt and leather boots with a few inches of platform (he had to admit he loved a good platform shoe) he thought he looked pretty damn good. He only hoped Tony felt the same.

The cloak settled around his shoulders and he let out a long sigh. The thing had an endearing sort of persistence, kind of like how a stray cat grows on one after time. He ran a hand through his dark hair, ruffling it until it was a cute kind of messy. A thrill of excitement shot through him. Tonight had so much potential. A movie night? That was romance 101. Flirty banter, sneaking an arm around the other’s shoulder, sharing snacks- it was the perfect recipe to nourish a budding relationship. If he played his cards right he could have Tony in his arms by the end of the night. This Tony fell fast and fell hard, and he was planning on exploiting that weakness to help the love of his life find his true path in the world.

Then there was the thought of seeing Peter again. Stephen felt his heartbeat speed up, thumping hard enough to crack his rib cage. He hadn’t seen his son in so long. What would he be like? Would he still hold all that beautiful wonder and eager earnestness close to him? Would he like all the things his Peter had adored?  _ Star Wars _ , churros, science, magic- just thinking about it made Stephen’s heart ache. Peter had held the three of them together. He was the steady tip of their triangle, the apex of their family. Stephen’s life without him, even just the few weeks they’d been apart, had been gutting and hollow.

Being without the people he loved, the two twin stars of his solar system, had been… bad. Every time he closed his eyes he thought he could see Tony’s smile burned into the bloody background of his eyelids, and he swore he heard Peter’s laugh in the wind outside his window. Not having them by his side… he felt like he was sitting on top of the world, watching everything unfold around him as he watched from the cold, empty sky. It was all so beautiful, shades of blue and silver and grey. The freezing wind whipped at his skin as he watched countless timelines pass, just waiting for a future that would never come. Tony and Peter would be back shortly, he was sure of it. Just five more realities. Just one more time. But he was so goddamn cold. So far away from everyone else. So far away from his home, and no matter what he did, he could never glue the shattered pieces of his dreams back together. All he could do was watch as time passed around him and the moon sank and rose over empty horizon, just as lonely in the empty night sky as he was. Maybe it was him. Maybe he was the reason his world was so far away, so hard to reach. Maybe he was the reason why everything had gone wrong. They were supposed to be kings. Gods. But now he was alone, stuck in a world trying to fix all the irreversible truths. He was the last of his kind, too broken to live but too desperate to die.

A tear trickled down his cheek and he wiped it away with his thumb, surprised by the tightness in his throat. That was bullshit. There was still time to fix things. He would make sure of that. He was going to get his happy ending, even if he had to tear if from the very fabric of reality himself. He couldn’t get emotional over minor inconveniences like this. Emotion led to weakness and weakness led to failure. And failure was something he couldn’t risk on something as important as this. His Tony and Peter were watching him, trusting him to continue their legacies and right their mistake.

He took a deep, steady breath. This was a happy night. He was making steady progress. Tony was recuperating his affections. Nothing serious, just flirty banter and lustful, lingering stares, but that was a foundation that Stephen could easily build a meaningful relationship upon. He was getting closer! That was cause for celebration. He smirked at his reflection, letting confidence flood his heart once more. But it felt just a tiny bit off now.

Stephen rocked back and forth on his heels, shaking the tension from his hands. He stood before Tony’s door, aching just to see the pale imitation of his beloved sadist. He straightened a few wrinkles in the deep, purple-red of his shirt, the cloak fluttering around his shoulders. He knocked and a muffled ‘just a second’ sounded out before the door was flung open.

Tony’s hair was messy and disheveled, and Stephen longed to run his hands through his soft locks. His tired eyes lit up when he saw Stephen.

“Hey! Doc!” His eyes scanned Stephen’s form hungrily and he licked his lips, leaning against the door frame, cheeks warming like the first rays of the rising sun. Stephen smirked, biting his lip just the tiniest bit. He adored being on display for Tony’s longing gaze.

“Hello, Tony.”

“God _ damn _ ,” Tony breathed, grinning up at Stephen with the tiniest hint of lust. “Not exactly what I meant by casual, but fuck if I’m complaining.”

“Why thank you,” Stephen said. “You’re not to bad yourself.”

Tony shrugged, and Stephen watched as he hunched in on himself, unconsciously defensive, as his words slowly sped up.

“Well not really… I mean my hair’s a mess, I’m wearing like, three day old jeans- you know how jeans last like, a week unless you spill something on them- and I’m wearing a Led Zeppelin T-shirt and you’re wearing like fashion things and stuff-”

Stephen cut him off with a sharp look, bringing his hand to gently cup Tony’s chin and tilt his head up to meet Stephen’s confident gaze. Tony fell silent, lost in Stephen’s flowery gaze. So blue. Like the frosted petals of hydrangeas.

“Don’t worry,” Stephen purred. “You make anything look good, darling.”

Tony practically melted in Stephen’s arms. Stephen let out a little snicker at the starstruck expression on Tony’s face.

“Oh my God…”

“What? You’ve never been complimented before?” he giggled. Tony swatted his arm, blushing furiously.

“Shut up!” He let out a laugh and rolled his eyes. “You’re too smooth for your own good, Strange. Besides, you’d better watch what you do or you won’t be able to get rid of me.”

“And that’s a bad thing?”

“Well, I may be a big name and a pretty face, but you’re missing the whole tangled mess of issues that come with me,” Tony said, tone joking but eyes serious. “Trust me. I’m one bag of cats no one should try and open.”

“And that means you don’t deserve to be happy?”

Tony fell quiet, the smile fading from his face.

“I-I don’t know,” he muttered. “Maybe not. I mean, my past-” Stephen pursed his lips, gently wrapping an arm around Tony’s shoulders to cut him off.

“Your past does not define you, Tony. You might of had a difficult day, or year, or life, but that doesn’t make you any less deserving of happiness. The only way the past affects you is if you hold onto it. I’ve learned many things in my time as sorcerer supreme, but the biggest one is that you can’t control what has happened in the past or what will happen in the future, so it’s best to stay in the present. All that worrying does you no good. Besides, from what I’ve seen you’ve done nothing but good, It’s the people around you who refuse to see it.”

“I…” Tony trailed off, eyes warming over. A small smile rose to his face, its softness a strange contrast to his normal snarky expressions. Stephen’s heart melted. “Thanks. I think I needed that.”

Tony leaned his head against the door frame, eyes far more tired than they should have been. Stephen offered him a small smile and Tony returned it, sparks of gratitude, and most importantly, trust, welling in his eyes. Stephen straightened up and offered him his arm, flashing a dazzling smile at the man who held his affections in the palms of his hands like a delicate baby bird.

“So,” he started. “Now that we’ve got all the mushy stuff out of the way, would you care to accompany me to this oh so formal, government-mandated movie night Mr. Stark?”

Tony took his arm, the constant amber warmth returning to his eyes alongside his beautiful smile.  
“The honor would be mine, Mr. Strange,” he replied, linking his arm with Stephen’s,

“That’s  _ Doctor _ Strange to you. I didn’t go through medical school for nothing.”

“Really? Because I have five PhD’s and you called me ‘Mr.’”

“Okay, fine  _ Doctor _ Stark. Happy now?”

“Never been happier,  _ Doctor  _ Strange.”

They walked into the common room of the compound arm and arm. The room’s decor was misleading, offering all exhibits of a friendly movie night between friends. There were board games and snacks covering every surface, fluffy blankets and pizza. But the tension in the room was far too thick for the situation. It was clear that very few of them actually wanted to be here, Tony included. Stephen could feel his body tense up beside him as he bottled up his anger and discomfort, ready to wear the mask of the charismatic billionaire once more. It was a change so minute it would be almost impossible for anyone to notice, but Stephen was attuned to Tony’s mannerisms. He knew exactly how the genius ticked, and he knew exactly how nervous he was right now.

Stephen shifted his hand to Tony’s lower back, moving it in slow, calming circles. He could feel Tony relax beneath his touch. Tony took a deep breath and picked up a nearby water glass, and tapped a knife against it. The room quieted and everyone turned to face them.

“Hello, everybody! I’d like to thank you for coming tonight. I know we all have places we’d rather be, but this is a good opportunity for us to get to know each other, not just as superheroes, but as people. As usual, there are S.H.I.E.L.D. agents on call nearby, so try not to get rough.” He paused, eyes flickering between Stephen and the guests. “Oh! And one more thing, this is my, uh, friend Dr. Stephen Strange. He’s Wizard Supreme-”

“Sorcerer Supreme.”

“The Sorcerer Supreme of New York. Some of you may remember him from our previous encounters, primarily the one with the weird tentacle monster thing. He’s staying here for a while, so he’s decided to join us tonight.” Tony clapped his hands together, a false smile plastered across his face, just a tiny bit too wide and just a tiny bit too desperate to be genuine. “And I think that’s about it! Have fun, everyone, and as usual, let me know if you need anything.”

Everyone nodded and turned away with varying levels of disinterest. Stephen watched as Tony’s smile faded from his face, replaced by a quiet, resentful exhaustion. He deserved far more than what these people gave him. He was incredible, breaking his back just to touch the misty apex of the pale blue skies only to be taken for granted. Stephen hated it, and he could tell Tony hated it too. He was just far too used to his efforts being ignored to care anymore.

“You don’t like this, do you?” Stephen asked, swiping a glass from a nearby table and pouring himself a glass of white wine.

Tony let out a dry laugh.

“Who would?”

“Fair enough.” Stephen paused, swirling his drink, watching Tony over the rim of his glass. “But you truly find no pleasure in being near them. And rightly so. But you have to act like someone you’re not, and that’s the hardest thing of all,” he finished.

Tony was silent. His doe eyes met Stephen’s and Stephen could tell he was tired of acting. That just Stephen’s subconscious nudge towards letting the whole charade collapse; like the chaotic cascade of the finale of a symphony tempting him to let go. But he just sighed and closed his eyes, quiet resolution radiating from his form.

“Well, I don’t really have a choice, do I? I can’t just be myself. I can’t show how much this sucks. None of them care if I’m hurting. They just care about themselves.”

“I care about you.”

Stephen gently brushed the back of Tony’s hand with his own trembling one, gently folding their fingers together with only the slightest of twinges of protest from his nerves. Tony’s amber-gold eyes, the perfect colors of koa wood, flickered up to meet Stephen’s. For a second the flat, tired resolution dissolved, replaced by the shimmering glow of hope.

“Then I guess it’s a good thing I have you here, doc. Maybe with you by my side things’ll be a little less horrible than normal.”

Stephen smiled. Tony’s hand was warm in his.

“Well I’ll do my best to liven the conversation. So,” he started, taking a long sip of his wine. “How was your day? Quite busy, I’d imagine.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Why it was very busy Angel, and how was yours?”

Stephen’s hand slipped from Tony’s grasp and he blinked hard. It was disconcerting, seeing that unique combination of sarcasm and domesticity on this Tony’s face. It threw him off his rhythm. It was a sharp call back to the past and a quiet reminder of what needed to be done. He frowned a tiny bit, grey-green eyes wide with a mixture of uncertainty and whiplash.

Tony looked up at him in confusion. “Hey, you okay there Stephen?”

Stephen shook his head a little, ever-present cocky smile slipping back into place, although just the tiniest bit tenser than before.

“Yeah. Sorry. Just, uh, remembered something.” He grinned and the moment of darkness was over and he let his hand find its place on Tony’s arm. Damn. He always forgot how much muscle Tony packed in his compact frame. The man was built like a runner- strong, yet lean. “But I can only imagine how hard your day was. Organizing a gathering of these people- that sounds like a living nightmare.”

Tony snorted. “Pft. You have no idea. But it’s a necessary evil. I mean, what else am I going to do? Let the world burn because I have too much pride?”

“I don’t think you’re the only one who has all the pride here.”

Tony grinned, chocolate eyes flashing coyly. “Yeah. I know a certain doctor who happens to-”

Stephen gasped dramatically and elbowed Tony in the stomach. Tony laughed, a deep, happy sound like a campfire crackling in the warm summer breeze. Stephen joined him, the party forgotten in place of their tiny, happy bubble. Stephen was happy Tony was having a good time. He could tell the other man hadn’t wanted to come, and he hoped his presence could ease the stress of being around so many untrustworthy ‘allies.’

“Hey! And here I thought you enjoyed my presence! I thought I could trust you!” Stephen exclaimed, tone far too dramatic for the circumstances.

“Oh Stephen, darling,” Tony teased, eyes sparkling with joy. “You can’t trust anyone in this day and age.”

Stephen gasped and clutched his hands to his heart. “Oh no! My dearest! You’ve betrayed my faith! I don’t know how my heart will ever heal!” he swooned into Tony’s arms and Tony laughed, holding the doctor close as the chardonnay in his glass sloshed dangerously. Stephen’s free hand found its way to Tony’s chest and he relaxed, lounging in Tony’s overly dramatic embrace.

“Oh don’t worry, I could never betray you and your platform shoe-wearing ass.” Tony snickered, still holding onto Stephen and making no move to let go. “Why do you even wear them, anyways? You’re hella tall.”

“They make my legs look nice.”

Tony laughed and Stephen adored the way his eyes crinkled at the corners.

“Of-fucking-course that’s why you wear them.”

“Tell me I’m wrong. I think you’re just jealous. I mean, it’s not my fault you’re short,” Stephen teased, patting Tony’s head.

“Say that again and I drop you.”

“Oh honey you wouldn’t dare-”

A cough sounded from nearby and Stephen tore his eyes away from the intoxicating allure of Tony’s coy smile and looked up. It was the colonel. He plastered on a gleaming smile and waved up at the man from the snug embrace of Tony’s arms.

“Oh hello,” he said, voice lilting in a way that had never failed to make the Tony of his past swoon. Behind him, he could hear Tony’s voice catch in his throat. “Rhodey, was it?”

“Yes.” Rhodey crossed his arms, watching as Stephen righted himself, the back of his hand brushing ever so slightly against Tony’s. Stephen held out his free hand, some of the flair and playfulness draining from the atmosphere. The man just looked so serious that it was starting to bleed into their tiny bubble of fun.

“Well it’s lovely to officially meet you,” Stephen offered.

“Yeah. Same,” Rhodey said, ignoring Stephen’s outstretched hand. His eyes scanned Stephen up and down and Stephen shifted uncomfortably. He felt like he was a specimen under scrutinization. “Hey, Tones, could you give us a sec maybe? I have something I want to talk to the doctor about.”

That didn’t bode well.

Had Rhodey figured out who he was? Stephen couldn’t see how he could have, but it was a possibility nonetheless. What had tipped him off? Was he noticeably, drastically different from the Stephen of this world? Was it the way he acted? Was it his clothes? He’d always been a dramatic bitch. Like, Avril Lavigne’s ‘Girlfriend’ level dramatic bitch. He couldn’t imagine the man that belonged to this world- the one now trapped far, far away- would be much different. Besides, from what he could tell they hadn’t known him very well before now. Perhaps it was something else. Maybe Rhodey just wanted to get to know him, sans the judgement of his best friend. Maybe it was a doctor thing. But why did he want Tony to leave?

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Uh, okay I guess. That cool with you, Steph?”

“Of course.”

Stephen straightened up once more, towering over both men, albeit in a more dramatic fashion than intimidating. Tony walked away, heading towards the counter of snacks. Rhodey crossed his arms, calm eyes as stoic and untrusting as normal.

“So,” Rhodey started. “I see you and Tony have been… spending a lot of time together recently.”

Stephen took a sip of his wine. His skin prickled and he had to fight the urge to go into full defensive mode.

“Yeah? So? What’s wrong with that? I enjoy his company.”

Rhodey sighed, ribbing the bridge of his nose. “There’s nothing wrong with it. It’s just, well, what are you trying to do?”

“What do you mean?”

“What exactly are your intentions with Tony?”

Ah. So it was just the shovel talk. That was an easy fix. All he had to do was increase his ‘genuine’ outward affection towards Tony until Rhodey trusted him. His eyes flickered over to where Tony stood chatting with Bruce and Natasha. Rhodey watched him carefully.

“Well, it’s a little too early to tell, but I- I really like him,” Stephen said, rubbing the back of his neck in a show of bashful admission. “He’s incredible. He makes me happy.” He chuckled a little at that, sadness seeping into his voice. “It’s been a while since anyone’s been able to do that. He’s wonderful, y’know? So smart, so caring, so nice- he never ceases to astonish me. He’s the only one who can really keep up with me, who can understand what I’ve gone through. I really care about him, Rhodey. I just hope he feels the same.”

Rhodey’s face softened a little at his words.

“Well, I hope what you’re saying is true.” He let out another long sigh and they both looked over at Tony, who was laughing at a joke spun by Natasha. “Tony’s had… a hard past. He’d been in a few bad relationships before, and I don’t think he’s ever fully recovered from them. I’m not saying he’s fragile or anything, to be honest he’s tough as nails, but it’s just that he tends to… fall hard for people. He invests himself and he cares and cares and no one ever really cares back as much as he does, so when they’re done with him… well, it’s not pretty.”

Stephen’s eyes softened. Seeing how deeply Rhodey cared about his friend… it was touching. Stephen’s chest fluttered. He felt weird. All tingly and warm. Strange. He needed deceive Rhodey into understanding just how pure his intentions were with Tony, but the tiniest parts of his heart and mind told him that he wasn’t lying when he said he cared. But then again, maybe he wasn’t lying. Tony was the best thing that had ever happened to him in his old world. He would never do anything to hurt the love of his life, afterall.

“I understand. I’ve had… difficult relationships in the past too.” Now that was a lie. His relationship with Tony had been perfect. “But I care about Tony. I really do. I want to make him happy. I know I may seem shallow, arrogant even, but I promise I feel for him, and I’ll do anything in my power to protect and care for him should he let me. I hope you can believe my intentions are true.”

Rhodey stared at him for a second, dark eyes calculating. Stephen offered him a small, hopeful smile and his eyes softened, still guarded, but somewhat trusting.

“Alright. But if you hurt him I’ll tear you limb from limb, sorcerer supreme be damned. I was in the army, you know. And I don’t hesitate to protect my family. Tony’s my closest friend. And if you hurt him, I’ll make sure you never see the light of day again.” Stephen nodded. Rhodey smiled and patted his shoulder. “Great! Good talk, man. Take care of him.”

He walked off, leaving Stephen standing alone by the door. He looked over at Tony and his heart warmed over. It was nice that Tony had people who cared about him so much. It would make tearing them away from him far more indulging. Tony laughed, and Stephen couldn’t help the tiny smile that rose to his face. He hadn’t been lying. Tony was incredible. Beautiful. Intelligent. Witty. Radiant. Lascivious. Resplendent. God-like. Stephen worshiped him like the stars worship the moon; painting the dark background of the night sky with color and shining brighter and brighter each day in an endless attempt to please the God above him. He smiled weakly, heart pulling him over to join Tony’s side.

Then a flash of movement and a familiar pair of wide, innocent brown eyes hit him like a train. It was Peter. The teenager burst into the room with a smile on his face, already clad in a pair of blue flannel pyjama bottoms and a fluffy yellow sweater. His smile practically overflowing with excitement and Stephen could feel every inch of his broken body tingle with joy. It was his son! He could finally see his son again! That smart, sweet, kind boy who had completed their family as he found his place in their hearts. Stephen wanted to rush forwards and wrap his arms around Peter, and he barely held himself back. He was so close, but Peter didn’t know him here. Hugging him would only cause confusion. But his arms still longed to hold Peter close, to brush away the stray hairs from his forehead and scold him for his tardiness, but his fear for the future held him back. He needed to stay calm. Everything would be perfect soon, but for now, he had to wait just a little longer.

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t talk to Peter, right? Why not start their relationship now? They were destined to be a family in the end anyways, why not just speed up the process?

Peter plopped his school bag down on the couch and whirled around, eyes darting around the room to find Tony. He started skipping towards Stephen, eyes still trained on the genius.

“Mr. Stark! Mr. Stark!” He skidded to a halt, stopping and staring at Stephen with wide eyes. “Woah! Mr. Wizard dude! I remember you! You were at the battle of Bleecker Street!

“Yes. I recall. You must be Spiderman,” he said, extending his shaking hand. Peter shook it carefully, gentle after spotting the scars. Stephen only had a vague idea of what had happened in the battle of Bleecker Street, but truth be told, the details didn’t really seem to matter. They fought in so many battles, after all, that to the superheroes they all just seemed to blend together into one endless miasma of conflict.

“Yeah! My name’s Peter Parker!”

Stephen smiled at Peter’s enthusiasm.

“Dr. Stephen Strange.”

Peter’s face flickered with confusion. “Is that your real name or your made up name?”

Stephen almost winced. He was so similar to the Peter he remembered, right down to the mannerisms.

“That’s my real name. I was a neurosurgeon before I became the Sorcerer Supreme,” he offered. They slowly shifted from standing near the snacks to back over to the couch.

“Sorcerer Supreme? Is that your wizard rank?” Peter asked. Stephen nodded and Peter’s eyes lit up at the mention of magic. Stephen smiled, anticipating a flood of questions to come. “Where do the wizards live? How do you learn about magic? Is there, like, Hogwarts or something? How do you do your sparky portal things? Are you an Avenger now? How does magic work? Can you show me a spell?” Peter gushed.

Stephen chuckled, smiling at the spider child’s excitement.

“I suppose I could show you a little something.”

Peter’s eyes grew the size of dinner plates and he gasped.

“Woah, really?!”

“Wait and see.”

What had been Peter’s favorite spell? Well that was easy. He had adored the butterflies that sprang from Stephen’s broken hands and flowed around them like the glowing ebb and flow of the summer ocean. Stephen’s eyes flickered with sadness. The day he had discovered Peter’s wonder at his magic had been one of the proudest moments in his life. Sure, he would be happy to watch his son pursue whatever passion he truly adored, what father wouldn’t after all, but there was something so exhilarating about watching his spiderling follow in his footsteps.

Stephen shook his head a little, trying to clear his mind from the cobwebs of the past. He was here to build a new future, a path that would lead to their inevitable reign over Pandemonium and the Earth herself, not to reminisce about times past. He raised his shaking hands purposefully, the image of the runes etched into his mind’s eye. He waved his hands, flicking his fingers downwards and out. A spray of silver-blue sparks flickered outwards and three beautiful, sapphire blue butterflies rose from the damaged planes of his hands, circling around them before gently coming to rest on Stephen’s exposed wrist.

Peter stared up at him in absolute wonder.

“Woah,” he breathed, watching as the butterfly’s wings fluttered gently, opening and closing rhythmically to reveal an ever-changing spectrum of blue.

Stephen was about to explain a little about the spell when a beautiful laugh, a sound like the warmth of a summer breeze, sounded out across the room. Stephen looked over, letting the last butterfly balanced gently on his broken fingertips dissolve into nothingness. He watched, heart fluttering and ocean eyes melting as Tony smiled, those brown doe eyes that seemed to hold a million years of stress and tension soft and steady, the warm amber of whisky before a fading sunset. A tiny smile rose to his lips as he watched Tony and a flood of warmth rushed through his chest. He liked seeing Tony happy. Happiness was a beautiful shade on him.

He turned back to Peter with a flush the faintest color of rose petals painted across his high cheekbones. The boy stared at him with a knowing smile, albeit a soft and kind one that was far more knowledgeable than his age dictated. It was like, just by watching him, the spider child could pinpoint the exact moment Stephen melted. Huh.

“So,” Peter started, and Stephen could clearly hear an underlying tone of interest in his voice. “What are you doing here, Dr. Strange? You’ve never come to movie night before. Not that that’s a bad thing, of course! I think it’s awesome that you’re here! Just curious about why you wanted to come, that’s all,” Peter blurted.

“Well, recently, the Sanctum Sanctorum went through a bit of a… rough patch. My friend Wong is currently repairing it, but in the meantime, I needed a place to stay and Tony was kind enough to let me stay here.”

“Oh! So you’re living here now? That’s cool!” Peter opened his mouth to say something more, but his phone buzzed and he looked down at it. Stephen watched as his face darkened, all the light and life draining from his eyes to be replaced with nothing but grim resolution. He put his phone back down with a sigh. Stephen frowned.

“What was that?”

“Oh, uh, nothing. Just an email from school.” Peter avoided eye-contact, pointedly looking at the ground. That was a lie if Stephen had ever seen one.

“Bullshit. Who was it?”

Peter looked a tiny bit guilty, caught in a lie.

“This kid Flash. He goes to my school. He’s kind of a jerk.”

Stephen grit his teeth. The Peter from his world had had problems with a kid named Flash too. Last time it had taken Stephen dangling him off the top of a building to get him to stop hurting Peter. But this time, well, Stephen didn’t really think the same methods would fly around here.

“What did he say?”

“Just the usual. Names. Dumb jokes. Insults. That kind of thing.”

“Peter…”

“I know, I know. I shouldn’t listen to him because he’s dumb and jealous and angry for some reason and all he’s doing is taking it out on me,” Peter sighed. “I’ve heard Mr. Stark tell me that a million times. I don’t really need to hear it from you too.”

“Well, I was actually going to tell you that your view of yourself is the only thing that matters.” Peter looked up at him, curiosity flicking in his eyes.

“What?”

“Other’s words will only impact you if you let them. If you can banish all semblance of reason from their words, they won’t matter to you anymore. They can insult you all you want, but the only opinion that truly matters is your own perception of yourself, and you can’t let what they say affect that. Besides, instead of letting his comments get to you, surround yourself with people who make you feel good. I’m sure you have other friends, right?”

Peter’s eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. Bingo.

“Yeah! I have this one friend, Ned, well, I guess I’d say he’s my best friend, I mean, we’re super close and I’d trust him with my life, so… And he’s awesome! One time, we built this Lego Deathstar together, and that’s kinda when he figured out I’m Spidermans- only he and MJ know, so- Oh! And MJ! I totally forgot about MJ! MJ’s this girl on my debate team, and she’s so cool! Her favorite color is feminism and she loves the Black Dahlia murders, and her second favorite is the death of Gloria Ramieraz- and she introduced me to Buzzfeed Unsolved! I mean, I really like their supernatural investigations, but she’s more into their true crime division. Anyways…”

Stephen smiled as he watched Peter prattle on, all traces of worry gone from his eyes. Stephen admired his positivity. High school was shit. That was a rule of life so fundamental it could have been listed in the first sentence of  _ Pride and Prejudice _ . But no matter what troubles it threw at him, Peter handled the situation with grace and ease.

They sat there for a little while, Stephen nodding and listening, only intervening with a quick comment or an appropriate hum of acknowledgement. He was happy to listen to the spider child, and Peter seemed overjoyed to have someone who was willing to listen. It reminded Stephen on the good old days, back when everything was so nice and easy. Back when they were a happy family. Back to when Peter would bounce home from school with a smile on his face, eager to regale his tales to his fathers. But it would be that way again soon, of course. Soon everything would be perfect.

Peter paused to take a breath, eyes shining brighter than a thousand stars.

“Well it sounds like you’re doing well. Your friends sound nice,” Stephen said, sipping his wine. Peter started to talk again, but a flash of movement and a raised voice cut through their conversation.

“For God’s sake! Can’t you just listen to me for once in your life, Tony?!”

Stephen’s blood chilled to ice and he turned around, murder in his eyes. Tony was standing in the corner with none other than Steve, holier-than-thou, asshat-Mcgee, Rodgers. Steve towered over Tony, anger in his eyes. Tony’s fists were clenched at his sides, and there was a determined fire burning around him, but Stephen could tell he was scared, if even just the tiniest bit. Stephen’s mind shut down, every cell in his body screaming at him to march over and put Steve in his place.

He stood, chancing Peter an apologetic look.

“I’d better go deal with this. My apologies.”

“It’s fine! I understand.” Peter shot Stephen knowing smile and winked. “Go save Mr. Stark!”

Stephen blushed, but marched over nonetheless, shaking hands clenched tight around the stem of his wine glass. As he drew near he could just barely make out a few words, these ones hissed quietly as to avoid suspicion. Steve looked thoroughly pissed off while Tony held his ground, but Stephen could see his eyes darting around the room like a cornered animal. He was scared. He was scared of  _ Steve _ .

“I told you! I don’t like the idea of you spending time with him!” Steve snapped.

“Well tough luck! You don’t get to decide who I do and do not spend my time with! Not anymore, at least,” Tony replied, venom heavy in his voice.

Steve rolled his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose, irritation more than evident in the action. “Jesus Christ- It’s not a matter of that! I-  _ We  _ just don’t know if we can trust him yet! I don’t want you to throw away your-”

“Sorry, am I interrupting anything?” Stephen said, a slight, pointed sing-songy lilt in his voice. His hand found the small of Tony’s back. The man was trembling, but he relaxed into Stephen’s touch.

“Yes we were-” Steve started, but Tony cut him off.

“No, no! Of course not. Steve, this is Stephen. He’s my…”

“Companion,” Stephen offered, sending Steve a teasing smirk as he laced an arm around Tony’s waist.

No one could miss that steely flash of displeasure in the Captain’s eyes.

“Well, then feel free to continue.” He locked eyes with Steve, daring him to speak. “Don’t let me stop you.”

“Well, I was just telling Tony that-”

“What? That I can’t be friends with someone unless you let me?” Tony snapped.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Steve spat.

“Oh really? Then what exactly did you mean?” Stephen asked. He could feel Tony tense beside him like a spring coiled and posed to explode.

“Well, I, uh- I was just saying that he should be careful!”

“Sounds to me like you were trying to control who he spends his time with,” Stephen said, cocking his head. Steve’s face turned beet red.

“You know that’s not what I-”

“He’s right, Steve.” Steve’s face paled at Tony’s words. “That’s exactly what you were trying to do.” Tony’s voice was calm and steady, but Stephen could feel his heart beating faster than a drum in his chest. Steve’s eyes narrowed.

“Well I’m sorry that I  _ care  _ about you-”

Tony’s eyes widened with hurt, tears rising fast and hard. He clenched his jaw, but Stephen could see his lower lip began to tremble. Stephen tightened his grip on the other man’s waist, silently willing him to snap back at Rodgers. There was no doubt that Tony had fire, had darkness buried deep down inside him. He had so much potential, so much willpower that lay unused, pushed further and further down as the years wore him away, hopelessness forcing him to suppress any semblance of emotion all because he had to be the stable one, the sensible one, the smart one in the room. And if he wasn’t that, then who was he? But if he just let go… if  _ Stephen  _ could just get him to let go… Stephen shivered, goddamn intoxicating memories of the violent, heartless man he adored slitting the heavens open to bleed the opalescent blood of the universe and the night across the ground, carving each star from the sky as reality screamed in agony. Tony’s hands were covered in blood. The shimmering, glowing blood of the universe’s gutted form. The blood of the people who had forced him to kneel before them. The blood of the world that had ignored his supreme jurisdiction. Stephen’s blood. Thick and red, staining his hands a gorey shade of copper and crimson and wine. The blood of defeat. The blood of submission. The blood of trust.

He craved that Tony. The Tony who smiled as he dissected the world, dissected  _ his  _ world, taking utter delight in how flesh split beneath his blade, and sighed in release as blood, ruby red, dripped from the wounds and spilled across his fingers like love. Stephen’s heart beat in his throat and he held Tony even closer, leaning down until his lips were mere inches from Tony’s ear. He needed that Tony in his life. He needed to push the man he loved off the cliff.

“You don’t need him,” he breathed, tone soft and soothing. “What has he ever done besides hurt you? You’re better off without him.” Tony tensed beneath him, breath hitching in his throat. His teary eyes narrowed, then hardened and shone until they were as sharp as the iron armor he bore, all his anger trained on the pitiful Captain.

“That’s bullshit!” Tony growled. “You never cared about me! God knows all you care about is yourself and your so called ‘self-righteous’ agenda. So do me a favor, Steve. Shut up and leave me alone. I don’t need you anymore.” Tony’s words slowed until they were cold and cruel, all semblance of pity gone from his heart.

Steve’s eyes widened and a delightful thrill shot down Stephen’s spine at the flash of dominance in Tony’s burning eyes. Steve looked like someone had slapped him. Then he narrowed his eyes and he turned away, stalking back towards where Bucky stood with Scott and Banner. As soon as he was gone, Tony deflated. He leaned almost unconsciously into Stephen, letting out a long sigh. The fire in his eyes ran its course, softening down to glowing embers, then fading fully from existence.

“Hey,” Stephen whispered, shooting Tony a concerned look. “Are you okay?”

Tony’s eyes were cold and stormy.

“Yeah. Whatever. Let’s just go watch the movie already.”

They returned to the couch just as the rest of the group picked a movie; the choice between some World War II historical piece about Bletchley Park or a  _ Disney  _ movie. In the end they picked the  _ Disney _ movie, vote swayed by Peter’s doe eyes. The three of them settled onto the couch, Stephen and Tony sitting side by side so close their thighs touched. Stephen let his arm fall around Tony’s shoulders, the only response from the genius being a quiet hum of contentment. Tony seemed to relax in his arms, the clouds fading from his eyes the colour of an Oregon summer. Stephen took delight in the dirty looks the Captain kept sending him. Peter sat on the ground between their legs, babbling away as the film progressed. Stephen smiled, a wave of warmth washing over him. This was nice.

About halfway through the movie, Peter’s words grew fast and unhinged (well, even more so than usual) before slowing down once more and then stopping altogether. A few minutes after his abrupt radio silence the sound of soft, quiet snores filled the room. Peter had fallen asleep, head resting on Stephen’s knee. Stephen smoothed his hair, careful not to wake the sleeping boy. A snort of laughter sounded out from across the room and Stephen glared at the offenders, Scott, Clint, and Natasha.

“Shh!” he hissed, gesturing down at Peter’s sleeping form. “Peter’s sleeping!”

The giggles grew even louder. He rolled his eyes and leaned back beside Tony, turning his attention back to the movie. That is, until…

“Pft- Watch out guys, looks like the wizard’s going full mama bear mode,” Scott snickered. The others laughed at his words.

Stephen tensed up, all the relaxation draining from him faster than an agglutination forming in light of an incorrect blood transfusion.

_ Mama bear. _

The title echoed around him and he rubbed his eyes, head spinning. It had been a while since he’d heard that one. The others laughed and he managed a weak smile. It was just a funny name. Nothing more. It’s not like it had any significance or anything. Just a funny joke. Yeah. He settled back into the couch, forcing his muscles to relax. A few seconds later Tony let his head fall on Stephen’s shoulder, and Stephen smiled softly, letting out a deep breath he hadn’t even realised he had been holding. After a quiet second, he leaned his head against Tony’s. This was… nice. Quiet, serene, beautiful. Like sitting on the shore of a lake in early autumn, the water still and calm as you watched the leaves slowly change color, bright against the stark blue background, bundled up in thick plaid shirts to stave off the chilled breezes of the changing seasons. Delicate. Calming. Stephen really liked it. It was such a familiar feeling, that glowing golden warmth, yet infinitely forign. So similar, but not quite the same as the past. He stared at the TV, far too lost in thought to comprehend the plot of the movie anymore.

“Here, carry him in here,” Tony instructed, opening the door to another guest room. Stephen, carrying Peter in his arms (partly of his own strength, but mostly with magic) entered after him. Tony pulled back the covers on the bed and Stephen gently placed him down, tucking him in and brushing a few stray hairs from his forehead. Behind him, Tony huffed in amusement.

“Huh. You are Mama Bear after all.”

Stephen rolled his eyes.  
“Whatever. Let’s go.”  
The door clicked closed behind them but Stephen made no move to return to their quarters. Tony stopped, looking at him in confusion.

“Hey, I just wanted to ask… I was wondering if you were doing okay, from, y’know, earlier,” Stephen mumbled, words, albeit quiet, stark amid the peace of the night and the gentle hum of electronics.

Tony scratched the back of his neck bashfully. “Yeah, Steve can be… difficult. I- well, we have a bit of a history.”

They walked into the kitchen and Tony sighed, leaning against the counter. The light was low, all hues of silver and grey. They cast shadows across Tony’s eyes, coloring their amber depths the same shades as the stars. He looked beautiful wreathed in moonlight, not god-like, but something more. Something far more powerful and far more peaceful. A leviathan among men. Stephen’s chest ached. He longed to tangle his hands in Tony’s hair, to kiss him until all the lines of doubt faded from his face and they were united once more. Alone together in the soft, silvery glow of the night. Insomnia had nothing on their company.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Stephen asked, cautious as he toed unfamiliar territory.

Tony paused, licking his lips. His eyes met Stephens and he softened, melting like caramel in the faint light of the kitchen. In the quiet at a time lost to the world, Stephen forgot about his endgame. All he could focus on was the beautiful, broken man before him.

“What can I say? I was dumb. He was in love with someone else and I didn’t figure it out. I was just a placeholder until he could find his precious Bucky Barnes.” Tony paused, the tension in the air tangible. “He never told me he loved me, you know. But I didn’t think it meant anything. I thought our love ran deeper than words. But I guess the truth was that he just… didn’t care.” He laughed, a cold and bitter sound. “I mean, what did I expect? It’s not like anyone actually cares about me. God knows he didn’t. I guess I’m still mad at myself for not realising sooner. I was just so desperate for someone to love me that I didn’t realise his true feelings until I had a metal shield buried in my chest.”

Tony’s jaw clenched and he looked down, hands tracing a curved line across his chest, right over the center of the arc reactor. He let out a deep sigh, letting all his weight lean back against the counter and Stephen could practically see the sadness running through him. He looked seconds away from tears, beautiful, fragile mind worn down after years and years of neglect. Forced to kneel and submit his full potential to the ungrateful masses. Ignored and attacked even after years and years of focus and self-improvement. It was written in the gold of his eyes, frown lines on his brow, in his nails, bitten down to the quick. Stephen longed to rush forwards and wrap the genius up in his arms, to whisper sweet nothings as he peppered his face with kisses. To promise and protect and serve him forever and always. He hated to see his starshine upset. Tony was the best thing in the world. He didn’t deserve the abuse his past had provided. But Stephen hadn’t been there for that. Now, all he could do was support his broken lover and lead him into a future brighter than the shining rays of the golden sun. Stephen paused, then strode forwards, clasping Tony’s hands in his, eyes strong and level with Tony’s weak, teary ones.

“Hey, hey, hey. It’s okay. What Steve did to you was inexcusable. He had no right to treat you that way and you have every right to hate him.” Stephen took a deep breath, hoping his words would suffice as a substitute for all he longed to say and do. “You’re incredible, Tony. Everything you’ve done- Stark Industries, the Avengers, your inventions- they’re all amazing.  _ You’re  _ amazing, and you deserve someone who’s just as good as you.”

Tony laughed weakly.

“No I don’t.”

“Are you kidding me? You’re perfect. Smart, kind, brave, witty, incredible fashion taste- you’re the whole package. And after everything you’ve been through- anyone else would have given up by now. Hell,  _ I  _ would have given up by now. But you keep going. You keep pushing forward no matter what the world throws at you, even if there’s no happy ending in sight. You’ve bettered yourself, you’ve refused to succumb to the rumors and speculations all over the news, you’ve become a better man than Steve Rodgers could ever hope to be. You are deserving of a happy ending, Tony. More so than anyone else in the world.” Stephen brought a shaking hand up to Tony’s cheek, gently wiping away a tear with his thumb. Stephen smiled, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. He loved Tony so goddamn much. “And I hope you’ll find it someday. You deserve it more than anyone else on this godforsaken planet.”

Tony smiled weakly, seeking solace in the man standing before him.

Stephen let out a tiny, adoring sigh, lost in Tony’s eyes. Tony was the difference between beauty and the sublime. Beauty was admiration, appreciation of the physical. But the sublime… The sublime was the feeling of standing on a beach before a tsunami, staring up at the impossibly massive wall of sapphire water stretching so far above you it blocked out the sun and turned the sky to a ceiling of aquamarine glass, unable to move until all you can do is stare in wonder at the pure, terrifying majesty and power of the ocean. Man had tried to tame her, had claimed to have conquered her, but at the end of the day, humanity still caved to the pure, raw force of the sea. That’s what Tony was. He was limitless potential boiling beneath a serene surface, a leviathan older than time itself waiting to rise like the ancient ones from the sea. All Stephen had to do was open the gate. But as he looked at the man standing before him, all he felt was a quiet, resigned hum in place of the fervent march his Tony had possessed.

But that wasn’t really important, was it? Right now Stephen just wanted to focus on how perfect everything was. How the light shone through Tony’s eyes, how a few stray strands of hair brushed against his forehead. Tony smiled back up at him, action insecure and hopeful. Stephen smiled back. He felt like he was back on that mountain, snuggled close to Tony as they painted new constellations across the sky. Everything felt perfect already. Different, but just as nice.

“Thanks Stephen,” Tony mumbled, words quiet, yet laced with a gratitude far deeper than any words could truly convey. “I’m not sure I could have gotten through tonight without you.”

“Of course. I’ll always be your support. No matter what happens.”

Tony smiled.

“You’re more than I deserve.”

“I disagree. You deserve the goddamn world, Tony Stark. I just wish I could give it to you.”

Tony laughed a little at that, hands finding their way to Stephen’s shoulders. He leaned his head against Stephen’s shoulder and Stephen could feel all of the genius’s muscles relax. Stephen wrapped his arms around Tony, pulling him close to his chest. He could feel Tony’s warmth seeping into his blood, slowly thawing out Stephen’s cold figure. It was nice.

This was nice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me what you think! I love reading all your comments and your reactions! Honestly, comments are better than kudos!


	7. Karma's Gonna Come Collect Your Debt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> bad things happen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING WARNING WARNING-  
There's a whole bunch of yikes in this chapter:  
Cheating, Semi-consensual cutting/blood play, minor sexually explicit content, and lastly, pretty explicit/creepy murder.
> 
> If you don't want to read cheating, skip the flashback until the bathroom scene. If you don't want to read the blood play/minor sexually explicit content, skip from the first bathroom scene to the second bathroom scene. If you don't want to read the murder, skip from when he follows Adam home to when he goes home.

“Come on, please? It’ll be fun!”

Stephen shook his head.

“No.”

“C’mon, Stephen, please? For me?”

Stephen crossed his arms, trying to avoid eye contact with Tony. But his gaze betrayed him, straying over to watch as Tony blinked innocently, shooting Stephen the biggest set of doe eyes he had ever seen. This was a terrible idea. He really didn’t want to do it. But how could he say no to those beautiful eyes? How could he say no to  _ Tony _ ? Stephen let out a long sigh.

“Fine.”

“Yes!” Tony let out a cry of victory, fistpumping and throwing an excited arm around Stephen’s shoulders. Stephen had to stifle the smile that rose to his face. Tony’s excitement was intoxicating. Tony beamed at him, eyes shining bright. “You won’t regret it! I promise!

Stephen regretted it almost immediately.

The convention center was filled with noise, light, and worst of all, children. Dozens and dozens of children running about to look at all the fancy high-tech toys the annual Stark Innovation expo had to offer. Tony had said this was an amazing event, a way to interest the young minds of the new generations in the fields of science and engineering, but Stephen just found it tiring.

Exempting Peter, he had never taken well to children, even when he had been one himself. He had always been somewhat separate from the others his age, preferring instead to read or focus on his studies. And now that he was older- well, he just didn’t see the appeal of the loud, energetic,  _ shrill  _ companionship a child provided. But now he was surrounded by them, the convention center turned a sea of school field trip groups and tired parents being dragged around by their eager offspring zipping from display to display to oggle all the gadgets. That, paired with the ever-present hum, buzz, and whir of electronics was enough to give the former neurosurgeon a bitch of a migraine.

He despised it. It was all just so goddamn loud. He massaged his temples, trying to calm the pressure behind his eyelids. He grit his teeth. How much longer until this was over? Tony had said it was an all day event. But maybe he could pause for lunch or something. Tony had him manning the first aid station after his nurse had bailed. Well, Stephen suspected she might not have had a ‘family emergency,’ as Tony had put it, and Tony himself had just called her off duty to spend time with Stephen. The thought warmed his heart, but that didn’t quite make up for the fact that this was literal torture.

He let out a long sigh and looked out from his booth, over to where Tony stood surrounded by a swarm of kids, all watching him in awe as he chattered away about some gadget he was holding in his hands. The sight brought a tiny smile to Stephen’s face. It was sweet. He may not have liked kids, but seeing Tony so happy and friendly- Stephen would have to have been a heartless jackass not to find it adorable. The way Tony held their attention, even as he talked about something as complicated and confusing as engineering, was incredible. It only succeeded in highlighting his kindness, his true love of knowledge, and just how much he wanted others to love it too. It only succeeded in making him more beautiful.

Stephen let out a long sigh, propping his chin up on his hand, watching as Tony continued to talk about his project, surrounded by holograms and the children’s awed murmurs. He loved Tony. He really did. There truly was no one else quite like him. No one who even came close to being as marvelous, as smart, or as brilliant as Tony Stark.

Tony glanced over and caught Stephen staring, a tiny smile fluttering to his face. His cheeks flushed a light shade of red and Stephen smiled as his speech stuttered slightly. He shot Tony a teasing wink and Tony rolled his eyes before winking back. Tony turned back to the kids then pointed at Stephen and Stephen’s nerves chilled. Oh Dear Dormammu what did he do to deserve to be on the receiving end of a group of children’s judgement?  
“Hey, do you see that man over there? That’s Dr. Stephen Strange! He’s a neurosurgeon and one of the best doctors I know! He’s also an Avenger! Wave ‘hi’ to him!” Tony explained.

Stephen blushed at Tony’s words. The best doctor he knew? That was… sweet. The kids all ‘oohed’ at the mention of the Avengers and waved at Stephen with renewed vigor, excitement shining in their eyes. Stephen waved back bashfully, still taken by Tony’s kind words. He just wished he was half the man Tony thought him to be. Tony turned away, focusing back on his presentation and Stephen looked down at his hands.

Was he really the best doctor Tony knew? He couldn’t even operate anymore. What if Tony’s words were just empty promises? Maybe it was dumb for him to think that, but a tiny little part of his brain told him it was probably true. But maybe Tony truly liked him. He was recuperating all of Stephens advances, wasn’t he? He was flirting back, engaging in playful banter, initiating physical contact- all the signs of attraction. Tony definitely liked him. A rush of warmth flooded through Stephen, but he pushed it down. He could feel happy later. What he needed to do now was take the next step. They both knew they liked each other, and they both knew the other knew they liked each other. All that was left to do was seal the deal with a date. Then Tony would be his. He was so close. All he had to do was ask Tony out. It didn’t even have to be something fancy, either. Just a casual lunch, or a drink after all this was over.

Stephen smiled, trying to still his shaking hands. That was it. After the convention he’d ask Tony out for a drink. It was perfect. A tiny bubble of happiness rose in his throat and he had to push down the smile threatening to breach his calm facade.

A child’s cry sounded out across the expo, followed a few seconds later by the panicked shouts of adults. Stephen looked over, watching as the crowd swarmed, then parted to reveal a middle-aged man with messy brown hair and glasses pulling a child towards Stephen’s medical stand, side by side with Tony himself. The girl, who couldn’t have been older than ten, cupped her hands to her chest, lip quivering and tears pooling in her eyes. The man- who Stephen assumed was her father- looked worried, and Tony looked terrified, mumbling a constant stream of comforting words to the girl. Stephen stood to meet them, guiding the child towards the station. He sat the girl down. He looked up at Tony seriously, all semblance of flirtation or playfulness gone in light of emergence.

“What happened?” he barked. He knelt beside the child, unfolding her hands to reveal a bleeding gash in her right palm, right in the middle of her abductor pollicis brevis. It had missed her major arteries and veins. Good. Still painful, but good. Blood dripped between her fingers. He examined the wound. Glass. The shards had obviously caused the cut, and there were still pieces lodged in the laceration. 

Beside him Tony ran a frantic hand through his hair, clearly on edge. It was touching that he was this worried. Who ever said Tony Stark didn’t have a heart?

“Thermometer broke. Stabbed her in the palm. The meaty part by the thumb- y’know what I mean?” Stephen almost rolled his eyes. He was looking right at the wound. But Tony looked so scared, face all scrunched up and worried. “Can you fix it?” the genius asked.

“Almost certainly. 90-95%.” Stephen pulled on a pair of gloves and helped the girl over to a sink, turning on the tap and running water over the wound to wash the blood away. “Mercury?” he asked, attention still on the girl’s hand. He turned off the water and dabbed her palm dry with a sanitary cloth, careful to avoid the wound. He pulled out an alcohol swab and cleaned the outer edges of the laceration, making sure to avoid pushing the glass further into the cut.

“Dyed alcohol.”

“Good.”

“Is she going to be alright?” the man asked, clearly worried. Stephen shot Tony a pointed look and jabbed his head in the opposite direction. The last thing he needed right now was a helicopter parent hovering over him and blocking his light. Tony nodded back and placed a steady hand on the man’s elbow, leading him away.

“Everything’s going to be just fine. Your daughter’s in capable hands. The best I know.”

Stephen turned away from them and back to the wound. He murmured a quick spell and flicked his fingers. Sparking golden runes hovered over the backs of his hands, steadying his movements. Magic coursed under his skin, energy glowing a pulsing gold as it traced the path of his damaged tendons. The girl’s mouth fell open, a tiny puff of amazement parting her lips. Stephen turned back to his station, pulling out a small tray, a few wipes, two pairs of thin, long tweezers, and a beaker filled with isopropyl alcohol. He dipped both pairs of tweezers in the alcohol, letting them soak before he turned back to the girl.

“Alright. I’m not going to lie to you. Now this is going to hurt quite a lot, but I need you to be strong and stay as still as possible, okay?” he said. The girl nodded solemnly, wide brown eyes still filled with unspilled tears.

He opened her palm and, holding the wound open with the longer pair of tweezers, carefully grasped the first shard of glass firmly enough to grip it but not so hard as to cause further fragmentation of the already fragile glass. Then, with hands as steady as as the days before his accident, he pulled the shard out, careful to make sure it exited the same angle and direction it entered. It may not have been neurosurgery, but it was still nice to be back in the fray. He had missed the comforts of medical procedure, even for something as simple as removing glass from a child’s hand. He pulled out the glass and dropped it onto the tray, dipping his tweezers back into the alcohol. The girl let out a whimper, but stayed perfectly still, the only sign of distress being the slight wobble of her chin. Stephen paused. He could tell she was really holding back tears.

“Hey hey hey, it’s okay. Don’t cry. You’re doing so well. You’re going to be perfectly fine. What’s your name?”

“Donna,” the girl said with a sniffle. Stephen’s hands stilled.

Oh.

He forced a smile. “Well you have a lovely name, Donna. Are you enjoying the expo?” She nodded, eyes still filled with tears. Stephen picked up the tweezers again, carefully removing another shard of glass, this one slightly smaller. “Do you like science?” Another nod. “What kind? Engineering? Chemistry? Biology?”

“Brain science.”

This time the smile that grew on Stephen’s face was real.

“Really? I used to be a neurosurgeon!” he exclaimed. Donna perked up notably at that. Stephen continued to remove the glass shards, but the girl’s discomfort had clearly eased.

“That’s so cool! Daddy brought me here to see the Stark Industry prosthetics development! Did you know they’re working on connecting the prosthetics with stem-cell implants in the brain and the legs to help with the electrical impulse stuff?” she exclaimed. Stephen shot her a wry smile. He had helped Tony address that idea a few weeks ago.

“I actually helped Mr. Stark come up with that idea. Just between you and me, Mr. Stark can’t tell the difference between adenine and thymine.”

Donna giggled at that.

“So do you want to be a researcher when you’re older? Or a doctor?” he asked, moving onto the smaller, more deeply embedded shards of glass.

“Doctor!” Donna chirped.

“Well if we get through this, I’ll show you some of my medical supplies and tell you a few fun facts about brain science,” he offered. “Does that sound good?”

Donna nodded eagerly and Stephen smiled. He’d never taken the time to appreciate his patients when he was a surgeon. All he’d cared about was the operation. And the money. But maybe there was something satisfying about helping someone. He hadn’t done it in so long, and it had been so long since his days as a doctor. He just wished he had realized how nice it felt sooner.

He finished removing the glass from the laceration (even the tiny, tiny bits that were a total bitch to get out) and shined a light into the gash to ensure he had gotten every last piece. He ran her hand under the tap once more and doused the wound with hydrogen peroxide and then an antibiotic ointment. Lastly, he taped the wound closed and unrolled a long length of gauze, wrapping it around her palm to apply pressure. Donna beamed up at him with a smile brighter than the sun.

“Great job! You did awesome! Now would you like to see my workstation? It may not be a surgical suite, but I have some pretty cool medical tools,” he said, pulling out a pack of suture needles. Donna nodded eagerly. Stephen was about to continue when Tony’s laugh sounded out from a little ways away. Stephen looked over and his blood ran cold.

Tony’s laugh lit up the world like usual, but what caught his eye was his hand, lingering on the elbow of Donna’s father.

“Good God,” Tony giggled. “It’s been quite a while since I’ve heard humor that dry.”

Stephen’s anger flared. Was  _ his  _ humor not dry enough?!

“Well, what can I say? Life has beaten me more than a dead horse,” the man said, smiling smoothly at Tony. At  _ Stephen’s  _ Tony. Stephen’s fists clenched, ignoring the protest of his nerves.

“You know, I didn’t quite catch your name,” Tony said.

“Adam. Adam Shirogane.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Shirogane. Is Donna’s mother around? It might be a good idea to take her to the hospital for further treatment,” Tony asked, rubbing the back of his neck bashfully. Adam’s cheeks flushed pink and he averted eye contact.

“Her father, actually. And no. We split a few years ago and it’s my turn to watch her. I thought it’d be fun to bring her here, but, well…” he ran a tired hand through his hair and Stephen watched as Tony’s eyes flickered down to the man’s lips. Stephen glared at them.

A wave of quiet anger washed over him, every inch of his body screaming in protest at the scene before him. He glared at the man, like he was trying to burn a hole in his head. This was not okay. Tony was his! He was Stephen’s and only Stephen’s! He thought Tony liked him! So why was he flirting with this bitch?! Stephen bit his lip until it bled. He wanted to throw the man into the void of space, watch his skin shrivel up and dissolve like ash in the freezing vacuum, body surrounded by the beautiful flowers of the stars. He wanted to watch as the mortician cut open his abdomen, categorizing his organs one at a time as all the life slowly bled from his eyes. He wanted to leap forwards and push them apart, to tear that man limb from limb for daring to touch Stephen’s love. That man would have a violent end, there was no doubt about that. He had dared slight the last of the three gods, and now he would pay dearly. One does not flirt with the bride of chaos without expecting vengeance, swift, cold, and far more passionate than even time herself.

Tony smiled dazzlingly at the man and Stephen’s nails cut tiny crescents into the palms of his hands. This was not okay.

“Don’t worry. Everything will be just fine. I’ll make sure of it myself. Here, you know what? Let me give you my personal number,” Tony said, pulling out a sleek business card and pressing it to Adam’s chest. “If Donna needs anything- medical bills, a reimbursement, a lawsuit threat- you don’t hesitate to call. Okay?”

Adam smiled back, twirling the card around in his fingers.

“Alright. It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Stark,” he purred.

“I might even say likewise, Mr. Shirogane,” Tony replied, as smooth as ever.

Donna ran back towards her father, wrapping her arms around his waist. He smiled and examined her hand before the two walked off towards the exit. Stephen watched, heart breaking, as Tony glanced back after him.

This was not okay.

A woman’s laugh echoed through the quiet halls of Stark Tower. Stephen frowned, stepping off the elevator. He rubbed his bracelet. Tony’s heartbeat had been abnormally fast all day, but surely he hadn’t… Stephen shook away his fears. He was sure it was nothing. Tony would never betray him.

He pulled off his jacket and hung it on its hook, his own heart beating faster. He was scared to be home. He was scared of what he would see when he turned the corner. But it would be okay, right? All he had to do was keep telling himself everything was fine. His fears weren’t grounded in reality. They were nebulous, unrealistic. He trusted Tony more than anyone in the world, after all. There was nothing to worry about. He took a deep breath, flexing his fingers to shake off his nerves. There was nothing to worry about.

“Hey honey, I’m home!” he called, voice quivering just the tiniest bit at the end.

He walked into the kitchen and his blood turned to ice.

A woman, tall and thin and blond, was leaning back against the kitchen counter, dressed in nothing but a pair of underwear and one of Tony’s button up shirts. Tony himself stood before her, leaning in close with a smirk that seemed to drip gold. Tony’s hand rested on her waist, and her arms were laced around his neck. She was beautiful. He was sublime. Stephen felt like hitting something. The wall. That girl. Himself. Anything. He’d take anything right now. He just needed to let go. Stephen’s face crumpled and he bit the inside of his cheek, trying to swallow the tightness in his throat and push down his tears.

“Tony?” he mumbled, words soft and filled with betrayal.

Tony turned towards him and flashed that gleaming smile that always made Stephen’s knees feel like jelly. He broke away from the woman, looking at Stephen like he was the only thing in the world. That alone was almost enough to make up for this… situation. But not quite. Stephen never doubted Tony, but now, now he needed answers.

“Babe! You’re back!” Tony cried, waltzing over to Stephen and running a tantalizing hand over his chest. Stephen couldn’t bring himself to move. “God how I’ve missed you.” Tony’s hand crept down Stephen’s side and Stephen had to hold back a yelp as Tony squeezed his ass. He backed away, shrugging away Tony’s hands.

“Tony- Tony stop. What’s going on here? Who is that?” Stephen asked, gesturing to the woman, who was now fiddling with their tea kettle. A flash of worry shot across Tony’s whiskey brown eyes, but it was replaced with confidence so quickly Stephen wasn’t even sure it had happened. Light was a fickle thing at the best of times, anyways, and darkness even more so.

“Oh Hayley? Don’t worry about her. We were just having a… meeting. Stark Industry, business, you know? Speaking of which, I think our meeting’s over.”

Then he was gone as quickly as he had come, heat fading away from Stephen’s icy hands. He crossed back over to Hayley, hands dancing across her skin. She giggled, a light and airy sound like bells. Stephen’s stomach sank like a ship in the sea, broken and slowly flooding with salty, stinging water until it was dragged beneath the waves by the traitorous currents. Tony smacked Hayley’s ass and Stephen flinched, Hayley’s delighted squeak ringing in his ears. He closed his eyes, listening to Tony’s hushed murmurs in Hayley’s ear.

“Hey babygirl. Meeting’s over. You were more than lovely. I’ll call Pepper up to escort you out. Sound good Angel?” Angel. That was Tony’s nickname for  _ him _ . That hurt more than any of Hayley’s delight. “Well, I guess that’s all for now. Promise not to miss me too much?”

“We’ll see, Mr. Stark,” she said. She grabbed a handbag and a pair of red high heels, making her way to the elevator and out of their home.

The doors closed and Stephen turned to Tony, pain in his eyes. There was a beat of silence. Then Stephen broke like glass.

“Do you care more about her than me?”

Tony’s face was unreadable. He strode forwards and wound his fingers between Stephen’s, bringing their clasped hands between their chests.

“Oh come on babe, we’re so much more than this. We’re goddamn kings. We’re what starts and ends wars. We’re the goddamn sun and moon, you know? What we have is so much deeper than all of this. I worship you, Stephen, you know that. And nothing will ever change that,” Tony swore.

Stephen’s chest caved. He loved the feeling of Tony’s touch; so intoxicating, so addictive. He craved the warmth that only Tony could provide, the genius working to thaw Stephen’s cold figure in the way that the sun thaws the last of the winter frost in spring. But dread still held his heart in it’s razorblade hands.

“But-”

Tony squeezed his hands and Stephen hissed in pain. Tony didn’t loosen his grip.

“Shh. I adore you, Stephen. You’re mine.”

“I-I’m yours.”

Tony smiled, cold and cruel. Stephen closed his eyes, but the sadistic curve of Tony’s lips was carved across the insides of Stephen’s eyelids.

Stephen took a deep breath and splashed water across his face. The coolness helped calm his spinning mind, but everything was still going too fast. He unclipped his bracelet from his wrist, leaving his pulse absent of the ever-present heartbeat against his wrist. He was on his own. He slowly unbuttoned his shirt with shaking hands, pulling it from his broad shoulders. His skin was pale and cold in the fluorescent bathroom lights. He let out a shuddering sigh, equal parts whimsy and worry. Scars littered his body in silent admonishments of adoration. Stephen brought his hand up to the initials emblazoned directly above his heart. TS. Tony Stark. His love. His future. His owner. He belonged to Tony in every aspect of the word. These marks only acted as a physical acknowledgement of their connection. A bond deeper than words. Deeper than actions. Deeper than the fabric of the universe herself. And far deeper than any whore named Hayley.

Stephen ran a gentle hand over his chest, tracing the scars and burns littering his torso. Tony loved painting his body with testaments of his devotion, and Stephen was more than happy to be his canvas, no matter how deeply he cut, no matter how much it hurt. And beyond that- those cuts, those scars, those were the ones he had earned protecting his family. He ran a hand over the gash in his stomach where he’d been stabbed, blocking Peter from the Winter Soldier’s knife. Another, this one higher up on his chest, close to his heart, were the scattered flower petals of a shrapnel blast from when he’d dove in front of Tony to protect his love from an explosion.

Stephen smiled, broken hands tracing the pale lines scattered across his body. Tony’s claims to him were beautiful, ethereal, even, but part of him valued the marks he earned protecting his family far above Tony’s exhalations of adoration. Sometimes he worried that his scars marred his image, but Tony seemed to think otherwise. He adored Stephen, pressing gentle kisses to every mark, every brand, every pale line of pain. He loved writing himself into Stephen’s soul, claiming him over and over again until Stephen belonged more to Tony than to himself.

Stephen’s hand drifted over to his shoulder, crossing his torso to reach behind to the lattice of scars on his back. He shivered. He was so goddamn cold, but the words etched into his skin still burned like fire. If he closed his eyes, he could almost hear Tony’s soft, reverent words, hot against his bare neck. Stephen squeezed his eyes shut, memories burned into the backs of his eyelids like the exhalations of a man stuck in the past.

“There you go baby,” Tony murmured, just as soft as the warmth of a candle, voice dripping adoration like hot wax.

He lowered his hand to Stephen’s hip, squeezing gently. Stephen shivered, lightheaded after what seemed like hours of being perched on the edge of pleasure. It was overwhelming. The gentle kisses Tony peppered across his body, the sweet things he whispered in Stephen’s ear, the vibrator in his ass humming tantalizingly close to all his sweet spots, the low lighting and warmth of the room- it was all so, so much. And then of course, there was the tingling sensation of blood dripping down his back, running hot and red in rivlets that splashed down and stained the white sheets below him. All of it was building together into a wonderful fog. It would be so easy to just drift away, to let his gasps fill the room as he let go, boneless while he languished in pleasure. Stephen felt odd, airy and distant from the world. Like he was watching everything fold around him, the things he said not quite his own. The buzz of the vibrator and the gentle waves of heat on his back blurred everything around him into a delicate, hyper-focused haze.

Stephen shivered, clenching his hands into fists. The dull pain grounded him, kept him below the dizzy haze that threatened to submerge him in their ambivalent aura. It would be so easy just to let his mind fade out, to fall back into that tingling heat thrumming through his body in steady waves. The wounds of battle only bled adrenaline, but these ones, inflicted purposefully, rushed straight to his head, filling it with a fuzzy, giddy warmth. It was the strangest juxtaposition between indulgent pleasure and stark pain. The act of letting go of his self presentation on purpose filling his mind with swirling stars. The nervous tension of the beginning had bled away and now all Stephen could think of was to keep going until he couldn’t anymore. The dizzying knowledge of his own self destruction was terrifying. Stephen loved it.

The room was hot- far more so than normal- but their indulgent little activity required it. It was dark, the room only lit by the flickering lights of candles. The dim light cast shifting shadows over the planes of Stephen’s bare chest and turned his skin a soft amber and his blood a bright, vivid, vermilion. The intoxicating scent of lavender and rose filled the air, heavy and thick and mixing with the metallic tang of blood; the smells only adding to Stephen’s enthralling sense of dissociation. Tony ran his fingers over Stephen’s back, following the lines of red inlay, spreading the fresh blood across his skin. Stephen shivered involuntarily. Tony’s hands were cool against the burning wildfire of Stephen’s back, his deft fingers catching on the edges of cuts. The feeling of his skin parting beneath his lovers touch was surreal and enticing. Tony’s heartbeat was heavy and fast against his pulse, his own heart desperately running to catch up. His hands curled into fists, bunching up the silky white sheets beneath him. His blood was so stark against the white backdrop, like the gore of battle on a snowy field. Like the fragile petals of roses scattered across the white ice of a frozen lake. Like the carnal lust that stained the purity of their universal love.

Stephen’s mind short-circuited sometime around there. His breaths grew uneven and desperate, pleasure peaking as he rolled his hips and leaned back into Tony’s touch, trying to inch the vibrator closer to his sweet spots. He was maddeningly close in every respect of the word, and Tony’s gentle whispers were doing nothing to ease his torture. He was so far past euphoria, he was so far gone that he had reached another level of being, a whole new plane of pleasure; somewhere where the emotions in him had stilled to the quiet tranquility of peace and everything was etched in stark relief and ten times more real. His mind was like a lake, morning mists rolling off the still, grey water as the sun rose in the distance, sending color shattering through every incorporeal cloud. But if his mind was a lake, his body was a forest fire, burning and spitting and begging for more, consuming everything in its path until he burned himself out, desperate for his pleasure to peak again and again. While his mind was tranquil and clear, his body was so on that he could feel every nerve, every tantalizing touch ten times more vividly than usual. He was on the edge of pleasure, burning, beautiful, blissful pleasure spurred on by the sharp pain in his back and the buzz in his ass, each agonizingly close but not quite where it was most needed.

Stephen closed his eyes. He hung his head, exposing the long, pale expanse of his neck- still covered in purple roses- to his lover. But Tony moved away from him, and Stephen could feel the hitch in his breath as he sat back and stared at his masterpiece. There was a gentle click, the sound of a rag being squeezed out, and the sound of Stephen’s growing pants. Tony pressed a wet cloth against Stephen’s back, gently wiping away the tacky blood from his skin. Stephen shivered. It was so cold against his burning skin. He liked it.

“Tony…” he murmured, rolling his hips again.

Tony’s hand found his waist and stilled his movements, leaning close as he traded the rag for his blade of red and gold, dragging the flat of the blade against Stephen’s hip.

“Patience, baby. You’re doing so, so good,” Tony whispered. “So patient, so perfect, just for me.” Stephen shuddered, then stilled, all his joints tightening until he trembled, burning impossibly cold and hot at the same time.

Tony leaned in close, breath sending pins and needles across the skin of his neck.

“You’re tense baby.”

Stephen’s muscles quivered under the heat of Tony’s touch. He nodded silently. Tony smiled against his skin and pressed a kiss to Stephen’s jugular, gentle and kind.

“It’s okay, Stephen. Just let go. Relax. You trust me, right?”

Oh God yes. Always. Forever and always.

“...Yes.”

“Then trust that I’ll take care of you. We’re almost through this, okay? Just one last mark and you’ll be mine forever.”

He kissed Stephen again, this one balanced on the corner of Stephen’s jaw. Stephen let out a low moan. God he loved this. On days like this, moments where it was just them- they made Stephen feel worthwhile. Like Tony wanted him. Needed him. Tony’s touch, Tony’s alluring adoration of his mind and body- it was indescribable. In those moments Tony made him feel human. Not some eldritch ball of power, or a weapon, or a trophy to be won. Human. And that was more addicting than anything else in this mortal plane. The heat of Tony’s touch as he painted his devotion across the canvas of Stephen’s body was just enough to turn him on even more. He let go, relaxing all his muscles and almost going boneless in Tony’s arms, heat coiling in his lower abdomen. He was so goddamn close.

Tony lifted the blade from his him and moved it to the small of Stephen’s back. Stephen closed his eyes, bracing for the pain to come.

The tip of the knife met his skin, pushing down gently until it broke skin and flesh, blood beading around the golden edge. Tony seemed to pause, tentative to continue. Then he cut downwards in one fluid motion.

_ God  _ it burned.

It felt strange, oddly high strung and tight, like the how the sound of nails on a chalkboard would make you feel. The edge of the blade had little resistance, yet Stephen could still feel it dragging against the deepest base of his flesh just as a piece of chalk drags across its slate. Stephen bit his tongue, hissing through his teeth. Tony raised the knife again and retraced the line. Once. Twice. Three times. Outlining his claim to Stephen in brilliant, bloody letters.

Stephen let out a high-pitched whimper, keening pitifully as tears pooled in his eyes.

“Shh… Shh… You’re doing so great Angel. Only two left to go.”

“G-God Tony… it hurts.”

“I know, baby, but it’ll all be over soon.”

Tony reached bloodstained hand around Stephen’s torso and palmed the front of his black boxers, gently massaging Stephen closer to the edge. Stephen let out a pained whimper, bucking desperately into Tony’s hand, mind torn between the tingling pleasure between his legs and the burning on his back so hot he could hardly feel his skin anymore. Tony reached to the bedside table and grabbed a small remote, pressing a tiny button twice. The vibrator in Stephen’s ass hummed faster and faster. Stephen bucked his hips frantically, desperate for the vibrations to hit his sweet spots. It fell just short, brushing against the very edge of his prostate, sending jolts of electricity and heat up his spine. He let out a lewd moan, hanging his head as beads of sweat dripped from his brow.

Tony smiled, a laugh low in his throat. Stephen’s eyes were so dilated they were more black than silver. Stephen shivered as Tony raised the blade to his back once more and cut the last two lines, lava burning in his veins after each incision. Oh God…

It felt like heaven.

Then Tony was gone, the heat of his body and the sound of his heartbeat absent from Stephen’s bubble. Stephen let out another strained gasp, more of a pained whine than anything else. Tears welled in his eyes. They burned hot and acidic against his cheeks. He was stuck at the midpoint pleasure and pain, torn between begging for Tony to fuck him until he couldn’t walk or curling up and crying until he fell asleep. The two had blended together and now he couldn’t tell what was turning him on anymore. He hung his head, chest shaking with sobs. The pain in his back was growing by the minute, his skin slick and hot, covered in a thick coating of blood and sweat.

A cool cloth pressed against his back and Stephen hissed in pain. The cold of the water was nice against his burning pain. Tony gently cleaned his cuts, leaning close and murmuring praise-filled words and reverent prayers of worship and idolization against his skin.

“God you’re fucking beautiful Stephen… I love you like this; desperate and hard and dripping with blood. You’re like a goddamn king, so perfect, so elegant, and all mine. I own you, Stephen, and now the whole world is going to see that,” Tony muttered, grinning as he looked at Stephen, eyes darkened by desire. Stephen hung his head submissively, tears rolling down his cheeks in big, fat droplets. Tony snuck a finger around and traced one of Stephen’s high cheekbones, catching a drop of misery on his fingertip and bringing it to his lips. Stephen moaned desperately.

“Oh God Tony… please… fuck me…”

Tony pressed a kiss softer than the rays of the rising moon to the crook of Stephen’s neck.

“Not now baby,” he muttered. Stephen whimpered. “Later. Right now we need to get you all cleaned up. You went through a lot today, and I can’t have my water lily hurt any more, now, can I? You did so well, baby. But now you need to rest. Okay?”

Stephen took a long breath, shaky and small.

“Okay.”

Tony smiled warmly at him.

“Perfect. Now let’s get you all bandaged up, yeah baby boy?” Stephen nodded, eyelids drooping with exhaustion.

He felt drained. He wanted to curl up in their bed and sleep for a thousand years, even if just to escape the burning pain in his back. But he was still so hard… edged for hours and hours until anything as small as a single tentative touch could unravel him beyond repair. He was so buzzed all he wanted now was for Tony to flip him over and slam into him over and over until he was a blabbering, overstimulated mess crying from pleasure and exhaustion. The rag scraped deep into one of the gashes and Stephen cried out, pleasure rippling down his spine like lightning. He ground his hips down against the bed and let out a whimpery moan.

“Tony… please…” he gasped.

Tony pressed a kiss between his shoulder blades and held him close.

“It’s okay, baby. I know it hurts. I know you want to come. But you’re going to have to be patient. Now let’s go get you all bandaged up and into bed, okay?”

“...Okay.” Stephen swallowed thickly, trying to focus through the fire in his mind. “I-I trust you, Tony.”

Tony smiled, eyes far sharper than his blade.

“I know.”

Stephen took a shaky breath and turned around, craning his neck to look at his back in the mirror. The words were still there- of course they were still there- stark against the smooth planes of his back. The majority of the marks were white and raised, long since healed, but several still had a deep purple-red hue deep at the base, the colors of his devotion to his lover. They were beautiful. Like painted pastels of flowers against a backdrop of a pale sky.

_ Property of Tony Stark _

Stephen shivered. Tony was right. He owned Stephen, in every respect of the word. Tony could do whatever he wanted to Stephen. He could praise him like a seraphim from heaven or tear him apart until he was nothing but a pretty face and a shell of the man he had once been. But it was the fact that Tony chose the first that brought Stephen to trust him so. Tony held his life, his psyche, his power, in his hands like a fragile baby bird. It would be so easy just to crush the spark from his weak, hollow-boned frame, but instead Tony had chosen to care for and nurture him. And for that, Stephen owed Tony his life.

Stephen turned back around, bracing his palms against the cold marble counter, staring deep into his flat ocean eyes. He trusted Tony with his life and he always would.

Forever and always.

Forever and always.

In the end, Adam was an easy man to find. Stephen, in his astral form, followed him back to an apartment in Manhattan. He watched as he dropped off his daughter, she and her brother trying not to listen as their fathers fought over her wound. In the end, Adam stormed out, slamming the door behind him. Then the man decided, instead of going back to his own home, to take a long walk to cool down. In New York City. At night. Honestly, was the man asking to get killed?

Stephen waited until he walked past a dark alley before he assumed his form, lunging out from the darkness to grab Adam and pull him into the mirror dimension. Stephen let go of him and Adam screamed, backing away from Stephen and into a brick wall. He stared in horror at the shifting wall of reality behind them.

“What the hell was that?! Who the hell are you?! What’s going on?!” he sputtered.

Stephen had to refrain from rolling his eyes. God he forgot how dull normal people were. Honestly, what was it like leading a normal life? Unimaginably boring, he’d expect. But no matter. He had a job to do. He had a man to kill.

Stephen stepped forwards, twisting his hands to forge a sparkling whip of crackling magic. He ran the bands of bright between his fingers, circling closer and closer to the trembling man before him. Adam’s back hit the wall and he cringed, holding up his arms in a defensive position. Stephen snapped his whip and Adam flinched. Stephen giggled, toying his whip between his fingers.

“Oh honey, are you afraid? Give me a corset and a pair of stilettos and this might even be sexy,” he purred.

Adam’s eyes widened. Stephen shot forwards, lashing out his whip. The bands of orange wrapped around Adam’s arms and yanked him forwards. He struggled, but magic always trumped the physical. Stephen stalked forwards, pushing Adam back against the brick wall of the building. Adam whimpered, trembling.

“Don’t bother screaming, darling. No one will hear you. Actually, no one will ever hear you again,” Stephen murmured. Adam shivered, but nodded.

Stephen cocked his head, musing. He wasn’t anything special. Tan skin. Brown hair. Glasses. A strong jaw. Cute eyes, but that was about it. Nothing special. Nothing noteworthy. So why had Tony liked him?! Why had he laughed like that?! Like Adam could make him  _ happy _ ?! Only Stephen could do that, not this bitch. Stephen was the only thing Tony fucking needed. He wouldn’t miss Adam. No one would.

Stephen grit his teeth, glaring down at Adam coldly. He grabbed the man’s jaw and forced his head up. Adam whimpered. Stephen smirked, darkness playing in his eyes. The desperation painted across his face- the desperation written in his tears and etched in his trembling lips- that was the most beautiful thing about him. He smiled down at the man, watching how all the color drained from his eyes. Stephen wrapped the magic bands around his forearms and bound the whip together, locking the man’s arms in place. He pulled a knife- red and gold- from a pocket dimension, twirling the short, razor-sharp blade between his fingers. Adam’s eyes followed its movements. Stephen smiled, bringing the tip of the knife to Adam’s face. He traced the razor blade tip down the man’s cheekbone, leaving the tiniest trail of red beads in its wake. He cut down in one sharp, fluid movement, nicking the man’s cheek deeply. A drop of blood began pooling on his tan skin. Stephen moved the knife away and down to his neck, right above his jugular. Adam swallowed thickly.

“Hmm. You’re cute, I’ll give you that,” Stephen scoffed. “Not really my type, but then again, my affections already belong to someone.” He let out a long, torrid sigh, tilting Adam’s cheek up until the moonlight played on the blood, dark against his skin. He leaned down, placing a gentle kiss on Adam’s cheek, lapping up the life from his wound with a careful tongue. Beneath him, Adam whimpered, to scared to speak with a blade at his throat. Stephen pulled away, forcing Adam to meet his gaze. “Well, not my type, perhaps, but I can still see the appeal.”

“F-fuck you,” Adam spat, glaring up at Stephen with fear and hatred in his eyes. Stephen laughed and Adam’s eyes only grew more angry. “You’re demented! You’re a sick, twisted-”

“Oh honey, I know all that already! No need to preach to the choir!”

“You’re a sadist!”

“Oh,  _ sadist _ … now I’m not so sure about that… Oh who am I kidding, of course I am!” He let out a fond sigh. “Although while it’s fun to play the dominatrix, something must be said for the ‘m’ part of ‘S&M.’” Adam looked at him like he was on crack. “But that’s a whole ‘nother bag of cats we’re not even going to touch, although, just between you and me, I can be quite a good sub,” Stephen purred, running the knife up and down Adam’s neck, watching those beautiful beads of blood pop up in its wake. “Any last remarks? I’m quite enjoying our little… repertoire.”

“I hope you burn in hell,” Adam spat, fire in his eyes.

“Been there, done that.” He paused. “You’re bold. I like that. What fun you are!” Stephen stepped a little closer, pushing his knee between Adam’s legs, running his knife gently over the other man’s collarbone. “Oh God, darling. How much I’ve missed this! I’ve been so dreadfully bored recently. Being good is sooo fucking dull! All that sitting around meditating and being self-righteous- how  _ do  _ they do it? I mean what did Stephen do before I came here? Sit around and read all day? How boring!” he sang. “Life needs some spice sometimes, y’know?”

“You’re crazy! I-I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Adam’s eyes were wide and glassy with fear. Stephen loved it.

“Oh we are going to have so much fun together, Adam. And it’s gonna be the craziest fun you’ve ever had, darling, I promise you that,” Stephen giggled, bopping the tip of Adam’s nose with the flat of his blade. Adam paled.

“H-How do you know my name?!”

“Come on, baby, think back. It wasn’t that long ago, honestly.”

Adam’s eyes widened in realization.

“I remember you! You’re that doctor from the Stark Expo! You kept glaring at me! What the hell did I do wrong?!” Adam said.

Stephen’s face darkened. He tightened his grip on the knife, digging the tip deep into Adam’s cheek. Adam hissed in pain. Stephen’s stomach stirred, something dark and ancient rising to the surface as he watched that beautiful ribbon of blood trickle down Adam’s chin and drip onto the ground. It should be obvious. He had taken what was rightfully Stephen’s. He had flirted with the love of his life. He had danced with the Death’s prized angel and expected to emerge unscathed. Tony was his. Forever and always. Forever. And. Always.

“Tony Stark,” he spat. “Tony Stark is  _ mine _ ,” he hissed, cutting deeper into Adam’s cheek. The man cried out in pain. “Mine and no one else’s!”

“Is this about what happened at the Stark Expo?! I-I didn’t mean it! I swear! I don’t really want to go out with him! It’s just, well, how many chances am I going to get to flirt with Tony Stark?”

Stephen’s hand stilled. His face fell deathly blank and Adam shrank away from him, sensing a shift in atmosphere. A shift in  _ everything _ . Adam didn’t even care about Tony. He was just playing with the genius’s emotions for the sake of a fun story at a party and bragging rights. It made Stephen sick to his stomach. Tony deserved more than this shit world could offer. He deserved the best of the best, the cream of the crop. He deserved mountains of gold and rivers of platinum, but most importantly, he deserved the love and respect that only Stephen could offer. But this man- this  _ whore _ \- didn’t see him as worthy of such devotion. Tony deserved a man who cared for him more than anything else, a man who would dedicate his very existence to his lover’s adoration. Tony deserved someone who would kill for him, someone who would  _ die  _ for him. And Adam sure as hell wasn’t it.

Stephen grabbed Adam’s throat, squeezing hard. He could feel the man’s trachea crunching lightly beneath his damaged fingers. Adam gasped for breath, flailing his bound arms. Stephen watched him with cold indifference. No human could stand between their love. Not Death, not Hayley, and certainly not fucking  _ Adam _ . Their love was beyond this reality. Beyond  _ every  _ reality. Beyond God themself. He chuckled, a dark sound deep in his throat. Adam quivered in fear. Stephen eased up on Adam’s windpipe, choosing instead to jerk the man’s chin up and slam his head into the brick wall. Adam hissed in pain.

“You  _ idiot _ ,” Stephen laughed, eyes filled with more wrath than a raging bonfire. “Tony Stark is a goddamn king, you whore. He deserves the best things this world has to offer! He’s the only good thing about this Godforsaken planet, and the only one for him is  _ me _ . Our love is God,” he growled. “Our love is going to be the thing that lights this hellbound world ablaze. Our love is going to raze this earth and salt the ground; destroy humanity and tear reality apart to purify the universe. You dared, you  _ dared  _ stand in our way, and now you will pay.”

“I-I’m sorry!”

“Oh don’t worry,” Stephen murmured. “You will be.”

He spun his knife around his fingers and lifted Adam’s bound arms, running the blade along the light flesh of his inner forearm. Adam shivered.

“Do you know what this is?” he asked, tracing the tip of his blade over a faint blue line pulsing gently under Adam’s skin. Adam shook his head, swallowing thickly. Stephen smiled. “This is an artery. Your ulnar artery, to be precise. Arteries carry blood away from your heart.” He lowered his blade until the tip just barely grazed Adam’s skin. If you cut one, you’ll bleed out in minutes.” Adam’s eyes widened in fear and a muffled whimper escaped his throat. Stephen paused, smile filled with adoration. Then he moved his blade away. “Which is why I’m going to avoid all of them.”

He stabbed down into Adam’s arm, right between the forks of his cephalic veins. Adam screamed in pain. Stephen smiled, gently sliding the knife from the laceration. Adam’s pain was goddamn perfect. Tears welled in the man’s eyes and Stephen didn’t even try to stop the excited giggle that rose to his lips. This was all so perfect. He flipped his knife around in his hands and pried open one of Adam’s clenched fists. He stabbed down into the palm of Adam’s hand- between his palmer arteries- and directly into his medial nerve. Adam’s shriek was beyond compare. Tears poured from his eyes and he shuddered spastically in Stephen’s arms. Stephen pressed his knife against the wound, parting the flesh. He watched lazily as blood bubbled up in the wound, slowly trickling down Adam’s palm. Stephen brought the knife to Adam’s face and brushed away one of his tears with the flat of the blade. A curve of rich blood smeared across his tan cheek. Lovely.

“We wouldn’t want this to end so soon, now, would we?” he purred.

Adam whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Dear G-God- it hurts!” he gasped.

“Sorry honey,” Stephen murmured, running the blade along Adam’s jaw. “God isn’t here anymore. You’re stuck with me.” Adam let out a shaky sob. “Oh come now, don’t cry! Where’s that beautiful smile? The one that enchanted  _ my  _ Tony?” He pressed the tip of his knife to the corner of Adam’s mouth, prodding slightly. Adam forced a smile, tears streaming down his face. Stephen let out a long sigh, smiling sweetly. He loved how desperate the man before him looked. “There we go, darling. Now don’t cry. We’re going to have lots of fun together.”

Adam’s pain was beautiful. Stephen had taken his time, peeling the man apart inch by inch, and the result had been satisfying. Watching someone collapse like that- to have them begging, pleading, praying for death- it was gorgeous. Stephen had missed it so goddamn much. Sure he was having fun playing his games, his courtship, with Tony, but this was the root of their past relationship, and it was only a matter of time before they explored it again. They were all just actors performing for an audience of death on the grand stage of the universe, and Stephen had just put on a five act masterpiece.

By the time Stephen was finished with him Stephen was covered in blood and Adam barely looked human anymore. Stephen smiled, magic-ing himself clean. He turned away from the shuddering pile of flesh and blood and bones and organs trembling in the alley and stepped through a sparkling orange portal and back into the compound. He yawned, stretching languidly.

Then a pair of arms shot around his torso and he stumbled backwards, nearly knocking over a decorative vase.

It was Peter.

Stephen smiled, ruffling the spider child’s hair.

“Hey Peter. What are you doing here?” he asked, trying to keep the exhaustion from his voice. Peter’s smile was brighter than the sun and the moon and the stars in the sky.

“Mr. Stark invited me over for the weekend to help add a few new features to my suit!” Peter cried. He grabbed Stephen’s arm, pulling him into the living room. Tony was sitting on the couch, staring after Peter in confusion.

“Peter?! What the Hell?! You can’t just yell ‘Spider Tingle’ and vault over the couch!” Tony called after the kid. He turned to look at them and his eyes brightened when he spotted Stephen. “Hey! Wizard! I was wondering if you were coming home.”

Stephen rolled his eyes.

“Hello Tony.”

“Aw, don’t act like you’re not happy to see me.”

“Oh I’m always happy to see you, darling. Just tired. That’s all. I had Sorcerer Supreme duties to attend to and, well…” He paused, thinking back to Adam’s wide eyes and frantic pleas. He looked over at Tony and his heart squeezed painfully. Just thinking about it, he felt… bad. He looked away. “Let’s just say they weren’t too pleasant.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Stephen,” Tony said, shooting Stephen a concerned look. Stephen couldn’t bring himself to meet Tony’s eyes.

“Hey! Mr. Dr. Strange, sir, would you like to join us for a movie? We’re watching  _ Star Wars _ !” Peter exclaimed. He hugged a large bag of popcorn to his chest.

Stephen crossed over, leaning against the back of the couch. Tony was swaddled in fuzzy blankets, an old  _ ACDC  _ shirt riding up a little at the hip. Peter was dressed in pyjamas covered in llamas and taxi cabs. Tony clutched a mug of decaf coffee (at least Stephen hoped it was decaf, seeing as it was almost ten at night) and Peter sipped at a steaming, marshmallow-filled hot chocolate. The scene was so sweet and domestic it almost made Stephen feel better. Almost.

“I don’t know,” he muttered.

He was so tired. Not just physically, but mentally. He’d been on edge ever since he left the mirror dimension. Like his heart was heavier. Like a shadow was looming over his shoulders, stealing the light from everything around him. It didn’t feel good. And right now, all he kinda wanted to do was go lie down and stare at the wall of his bedroom.

“I’ve had a bit of a… long day.”

Tony smiled up at him with those beautiful koa wood eyes and Stephen knew he would say yes to anything Tony wanted.

“C’mon. It’s just one movie. What d’ya say, Pretty Boy?” Tony said, flashing Stephen a smile more dazzling than the summer sun. Stephen felt his heart twinge painfully in his chest.

Stephen leaned a little further in, cocking his head and smirking back. He shouldn’t say yes. He really didn’t feel like it. But when Tony looked at him like that- it felt like his world was on fire, but in a good way. Tony seemed to realize he had Stephen close to the edge, as he leaned forwards and gazed at him pensively through long eyelashes.

“Y’know, you have really nice eyes, Doc. Silver and beautiful. Star eyes.”

Well that was a  _ K.O.  _ if Stephen had ever seen one. It felt like he’d been hit by a goddamn train. His heart slammed frantically against his rib cage. He knew Tony was a master with machines, but not with words. But he himself wasn’t exactly uncharismatic.

“You’re one to talk,” he teased, leaning further over the couch. Peter munched popcorn in the background.

“Go on,” Tony said, a competitive spark illuminating his tone.

“Are you kidding me? Your eyes are like a sunrise, bright and warm and a trillion shades of gold. You light up the world, Tony, in more ways than one.”

Now it was Tony’s turn to flush.

“Well, your eyes look like the ocean. Beautiful, glittering, endless…” He shot Stephen a sultry look. “ _ Dangerous _ . A million shades of blue and green, tranquil and alluring in the day but choppy and tumultuous at night. Your eyes are the sea and dear God I’d love to take a swim.”

Well now it was just a competition.

“Your eyes are incredible, Stark. Gold and amber and a million shades of mahogany. They say an image is worth a thousand words, but honestly I don’t think there are enough words in the universe to do your eyes justice.”

Tony’s face was bright red. Stephen smiled, biting his lip. Behind them, Peter groaned.

“Oh my God you guys are so mushy!” he cried, throwing popcorn at them. Tony chuckled and Stephen ruffled the teen’s hair.

“You’ll understand when you’re older,” he said. Peter scoffed.

“So, magic man, you staying or leaving?”

Stephen rolled his eyes.

“Fine. I’ll stay. Just let me put the kettle on. A cup of tea sounds amazing right about now.”

“Alright, but hurry back,” Tony said, reaching over to smack Stephen’s ass as he turned away. Stephen let out a startled squeak and Peter groaned and buried his face in the pillows.

Stephen shot Tony an indignant, yet flirty look before he turned and walked into the kitchen. He prepped the kettle- which he found had gone completely unused before he arrived at the compound- and readied a teapot of orange-mint ginseng. He was about to use magic to speed up the boiling of the water when the sound of padded footprints stopped him. He looked up. It was Peter.

The kid was leaning against the door frame, watching Stephen with an excited, yet knowing smirk. Stephen straightened up. He didn’t like that look. That look meant trouble.

“So,” Peter started. Here it comes. “Do you like Mr. Stark?”

Stephen flushed, fumbling with his cup.

“I- uh-” he stuttered, voice as shaky as his hands.

“It’s okay if you do,” Peter said. “I think you two are really cute together! Mushy and gross, but cute!”

“Oh.” Stephen rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, yeah. I do have feelings for him. I really do. He makes me… happy.” The shadows surrounding him eased a little at that.

“Well that’s good! I really like both of you guys. You’re both really awesome, good people and you deserve to be happy. Mr. Stark especially.” Peter’s face fell a little. “He’s had… a not so good time recently, what with the Avengers and everything. He’s been trying really hard to keep face and fix everything, but I can tell he’s lonely. And I mean, ever since you came here, he’s been so much happier. It’s like when you enter the room he can just let go of his stress and forget about all the problems he has to deal with. It’s really nice. And, I guess what I’m trying to say is that I hope you guys get together. I think you both need it.”

Stephen stared at Peter with wide eyes, a tiny smile playing across his lips. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, the kid was gone. Peter thought they were good together. Tony was happier when he was around. He had gotten Peter’s blessing. All of that was amazing.

The tea kettle went off and Stephen smiled, breaking away from his stupor. His heart felt warm. Light. Free. It was strange. But there was still something nagging at him, shadows tugging at the corners of his vision. Even while he was surrounded by Tony and Peter’s- his son and lover’s- affection, deep down he still felt like something sticky and viscous and dark was weighing him down, keeping him from happiness. He felt wrong. He felt… guilty.

Stephen poured his tea and returned to the living room, snuggling up between Peter and Tony. Tony started the movie again and Stephen stared forwards, unseeing, at the screen before him. The images bled together into a blur of color, dialogue hollow and empty and unable to reach Stephen’s ears. He felt like he was worlds away, too stuck in his mind to enjoy his own family. It was like there was a wall of glass between him and their world and all he could do was watch as people moved around him and his body played its role as puppet to the universe.

Stephen swallowed thickly. He plonked his head down on Tony’s shoulder. Tony hummed gently beside him, leaning his head against Stephen’s. A tear trickled down Stephen’s cheek and he sniffled. This was so nice. He was so happy. But he didn’t deserve it, did he?

He cuddled closer to Tony, still staring unseeingly ahead. He should have been happy, but his heart twinged painfully. That was okay, though. He could pretend, if just for now. The war inside his mind still raged on, but the quiet lullaby of their little bubble soothed the fire in his thoughts, if even just for a little while. This was okay.

He was okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all enjoyed that messed up shit! Sorry for adding in Adam and then murdering him for those of you who know who he is. (tbh he still got more screen time than he did in the show, tho). And for those of you who don't, I'm sorry for making you think of the 'Adam' vine the whole time.  
Anyways, as usual, tell me what you think! I really love all of your comments and all your support is greatly appreciated.
> 
> Chapter title is from 'Wolf in Sheep's clothing' by Set it Off


	8. That's the Beauty of a Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a dance. Stephen comforts Tony and confronts both his deepest fears and ass-dick Mc-Capitalism, AKA Steve Rogers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING- mentions of past abuse, panic attack, both minor and major, and Steve's a dick. Those things kind of span the whole chapter, so be warned.  
Btw here's the link to some fanart I made of Stephen. (same triggers apply as above + implied self harm)  
https://stark-strange-love.tumblr.com/post/189604225725/warning-some-tiggers-implied-self-harm-abuse

Stephen’s bracelet was broken.

Oh.

Stephen unclipped it from his wrist, examining the shimmering red surface. The front of it was scraped and cracked, metal bent into unnatural shapes. The runes pulsing beneath the surface were faded and incoherent. Stephen ran a trembling hand over the surface and the clasp snapped off in his hands. It was truly broken.

His heart twisted painfully. It hurt like hell to see this little piece of his love cracked and cradled like a weak, dying bird in his broken hands. It was that deep kind of hurt in your heart, the one that ached and ached like it was filled with lead. That kind of hurt that you could never truly get over, just learn to live with. A part of him wanted to curl up into a ball and cry, but another part of him felt oddly… calm about it. Like it didn’t affect him at all. It was always easiest to look to the past or the future, and right now, Stephen was torn between the two. Caught somewhere in between, but not in the present.

He let out a heavy sigh and placed the bracelet down on his nightstand. Maybe he would fix it. Maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe someday it would join its other half, buried in the grounds of Central Park, heartbeat stilled forever more. Maybe it would sit on Stephen’s nightstand for the rest of his life. He couldn’t bear to get rid of it, not yet at least, and he didn’t quite know if he wanted to tinker with his lover’s greatest gift. So for now it would suffice to keep it here, close to his heart and mind, but separate from his body.

Stephen got into bed and turned off the lights, watching as the gold inlay glittered softly in the faint moonlight. It was the end of an era, he supposed. And the start of a new golden age.

Much to Stephen’s surprise, it had been Tony who asked him out first. It was almost certainly just a formality, after all, Stephen would have attended the Avengers masquerade charity ball by his side regardless. Yet there was something special about the way Tony’s cheeks had pinkened and how his eyes had fluttered about that made formalities the most amazing thing in the world. But that was beside the point. He was finally going on an official date with Tony. With the love of his life. It was silly, but he swore he could feel his stomach fluttering with butterflies. He felt… happy. Excited. Tingling with the anticipation of seeing the man he loved smiling as they danced between the crystal light of a million chandeliers. His mind flickered back to his plan, his endgame, but he pushed it away. For now, all he wanted to focus on was his night with Tony.

He took his sweet time getting ready, but then again, he wanted to look his best for the man who owned his heart. A deep, wine red shirt and a black three piece suit did the trick nicely. He clipped a golden pocket watch to the vest pocket, chain trailing down his chest. He ran his hands over the back of his jacket, shimmering translucent gold runes spreading out from the tips of his fingers to form a very faint set of beautiful angel wings. A bit of a unique, ethereal spin on a classic look. He turned back to the mirror, unbuttoning the top of his shirt just enough to catch a tantalizing glimpse of his collarbone. He smirked, pulling a small leather collar from his pocket dimension. A choker embellished with a silver heart in the middle. The perfect combination of sexy and still relatively elegant. He clipped it around his neck, relishing how it constricted around his throat. He turned towards the mirror, fixing his hair and adding the tiniest touch of lip gloss and mascara to highlight his already prominent features. He looked great. Eyes smoky and tempting, yet at the same time, sincere and earnest. He smiled. Tonight was going to be perfect.

The entry hall to the Gala was loud and bright, conversation echoing off the large marble dome and back down to the shining floors. Everything was gold accents and pink marble and clear crystal, the whole shebang shining in the bright, amber light of candles and chandeliers. Large pinkish-white columns framed the arched doorway leading into the party. Music and laughter sounded out from the adjoining ballroom, the party already bursting with noise and excitement. Stephen stood off to the side of the entrance, a black and red and silver mask clutched tightly in his shaking hands.

Tony wasn’t there yet. He’d been waiting for a while, too. But not too long. But still long enough to worry. Tony was the one who asked _ him _ out, after all. So Stephen had nothing to worry about. It wasn’t like Tony’d stand him up, right?

A deep emptiness clawed at his stomach, the seeds of doubt digging deep into his stomach and tearing apart his flesh. It was a feeling so heavy that every second he was alive he felt like his stomach was filling with flowers, roots creeping deep into his muscles and tendons and sinew. Bright blossoms expanded out of his stomach, puncturing tissue to curl in and around his lungs until he was being torn apart from the inside out and he was left coughing up bright, blood-stained petals.

He blinked hard and leaned back against the wall, head spinning. He closed his eyes. The pressure in his head was building; a deep, sad ache older than time itself. He swallowed tightly. His throat hurt so much. He rubbed his eyes. It was like he could still see himself watching as Tony danced the night away without him, standing on the sidelines as his vision tunneled with tears. He had loved Tony, but the man was just so goddamn charismatic. Stephen couldn’t have ever kept up. Not then, and maybe not now.

His breaths grew short. His eyes shot open and he wrapped his arms tight around his torso, cradling himself as the world grew loud around him. This was it. Tony had seen through his charade once more. He saw how broken, how fucking desperate Stephen was and it disgusted him. Stephen’s vision darkened at the edges, blurring and sharpening in rapid succession. He backed up until he hit the wall, pressing his palms to the cool marble. Not here not now. But it was okay. He’d dealt with this before. All he had to do was plaster on a killer grin and pass the night over glasses of champagne and overly confident banter. He’d done it before and he could do it again. What did it matter that Tony didn’t care for him now? He hadn’t cared for him then. Maybe everything was already fixed. Maybe everything was exactly the way it was supposed to be. Everything was so goddamn loud. So goddamn _ bright _. Why was everything so bright?!

“Hey Stephen! Sorry I’m late. There was a Stark industries meeting and I couldn’t- whoa.”

Stephen opened his eyes and all the tension immediately drained from his shoulders.

Tony was beautiful.

He wasn’t wearing anything particularly special, nothing fancy or expensive or eye-catching. Just a plain black jacket, a smokey grey vest and a navy shirt. Nothing out of the ordinary. His mask was gold and and a dusty shade of blue, the papery lines of butterfly wings falling across his face and his hair messy and disheveled and glinting in the golden light of the ballroom. There were bags under his eyes and he smiled guiltily, scratching the back of his neck. He looked incredible. God-like, even.

Stephen’s lips parted. A soft bubble of warmth pooled in his chest. Sometimes feelings transcribed the physical restraints of words. Sometimes feelings were beyond description. Sometimes feelings felt more like memories, dipped and faded in the soft lavender hues of nostalgia. Seeing Tony was like standing on a long beach before the Atlantic ocean, staring out at the endless planes of blue and grey and turquoise. The sun setting over the water and coloring the crests of the waves an indescribable shade of violet, the sand still hot beneath his bare feet. Like it was that time of day where the very air seemed to fade to lavender, only aided by the soft salty scent of the ocean breeze tousling Stephen’s dark hair. Seeing Tony was indescribable. Seeing Tony was warmth and freedom and summer air and sand and lilacs and the salty sting of ocean water against your face. It was laughter, it was happiness, it was _ peace _.

Stephen felt like crying.

His whole body tingled like butterflies were brushing over his skin, tiny legs leaving imprints of adoration across his skin. His heart beat so fast he was scared it would shatter his rib cage. It was like every horrible memory, every painful mark of devotion, every tear every fear every mistake he’d ever made had been washed away by the gentle ebb and flow of the waves in Tony’s mahogany eyes. He felt lighter than air, all his panic dissolving in the light of the ocean sunrise that was Tony Stark. God how had he gotten so damn lucky? How had he ever deserved someone as wonderful as Tony? As incredible? As kind?

Tony smiled up at him like he was his sun his moon and his stars and Stephen looked back at him like he was the goddamn universe.

“You look beautiful,” Stephen breathed, delicate words gilded by the golden noise of the party behind them. Tony smiled breathlessly, eyes warm in the peach light of the chandeliers.

“Thanks,” he said, staring up at Stephen with wide, adoring eyes. “You look amazing too.”

Stephen smiled. A fragile blush rose to his cheeks.

“I’m nothing compared to you.”

He meant every word. Tony frowned and worry found its home in Stephen’s heart. Tony reached up a steady hand to cup Stephen’s face. He brushed a gentle thumb over Stephen’s high cheekbone before his hand dipped down to brush against the collar tight to Stephen’s neck. Stephen shivered. He bit back a low moan. There was something about how Tony looked at him like he was the only goddamn thing that mattered in the room that was just so damn addicting.

“That’s not true at all.” Tony smiled, tugging at Stephen’s choker. “Can you even see yourself? You look like an angel, Stephen. Like a fucking king.”

“T-thanks.”

Stephen had no idea what to do. He had never felt like this before. He gulped, leaning into Tony’s touch. He clasped Tony’s hand in his shaking one, lacing their fingers together.

“I-I’m really excited about tonight,” he stammered, face growing redder by the second.

“Me too. I think you might be the first person I’ve ever met capable of making this night any fun, Dr. Strange.”

Stephen’s heart calmed a little at the reassuring smile Tony shot him.

“Well the pleasure is all mine, Dr. Stark. Shall we enter and dazzle all these plebeians?”

“Why I’d love nothing more.”

They linked arms and began walking towards the glowing entrance of the party. Then Tony’s eyes brightened and he pulled his hand from Stephen’s grasp, reaching into his suit jacket to pull out a small box.

“Oh! Stephen! Wait!”

“What is it?”

Tony blushed, looking away. “I, uh, got you something.”

Stephen’s mouth fell open. Tony had gotten him a present? His heart felt hot enough to burst. Tony pressed the box- navy with a gold ribbon- into his hands and Stephen’s throat felt oddly tight. This was all so… overwhelming. What had he ever done to deserve it?

He carefully undid the beautiful cream-colored bow with shaking hands. The delicate silk was a stark contrast beside his scarred and broken hands. The ribbon fell away and Stephen opened the box.

It was a watch.

Stephen felt tears pool in his chest. It was a watch. Tony had gotten him a watch. It was beautiful, with a golden band and a front of clear crystal. The face itself was a deep navy flecked with the tiniest imperfections of golden shards. Stephen had a feeling it was lapis lazuli. Small crescent shaped holes were carved into the stone, exposing the beautiful inner workings of the watch, golden gears ticking along merrily. Stephen felt his throat tighten. It made even the never ending, unstoppable, sublime colossus of time elegant and compact. Taking a force beyond human comprehension and labeling it with gold and lapis inlay. It was beautiful. Far too beautiful for his broken and damaged hands.

Tears rose to his eyes and he gulped. His hands were shaking more than usual, wrought with emotions that he hadn’t felt… ever. Tony had given him a piece of the night sky, a piece of the ocean. What could Stephen ever offer him that would even come close to comparing? He gulped, wiping at his eyes.

“Tony, I-”

Tony avoided eye contact, fidgeting with his tie, clearly nervous.

“I, uh, I saw that your bracelet was broken, and I know it’s not the same what with emotional significance and all, but you just kept touching your wrist and you were always so sad when nothing was there and I just wanted to give you something because that’s what I do that’s what Tony Stark’s supposed to do he’s supposed to buy everyone things but if you don’t like it I can just return it and have someone fix your bracelet- Oh shit that’s probably what I should have done in the first place! God I’m so dumb-”

“I love it.”

Tony looked up at him with wide eyes.

“What?”

Stephen looked up Tony with eyes brighter than the winter moon.

“I love it. It’s beautiful.”

“But your bracelet-”

“Is a piece of the past. Yes it was important to me, and yes, it holds a deep sentimental value, but I can’t let the past stop me from moving forwards. I’m never going to forget what it meant, and I’m never going to forget my relationship with T- with him, and he’ll always hold a special place in my heart. But he- he’s gone now. And I’m still here.” Tears rose to Stephen’s eyes. He felt like shit. He was betraying the man he loved. But the clarity deep in his gut told him that what he was saying was the truth. “And I need to keep going, no matter how hard it may be. And if I get to keep going with you, then I’d say I’m the luckiest man in the goddamn universe.”

Stephen sniffled, clutching the watch tightly in his aching, trembling hands. A tear rolled down his cheek, carving a path down the sharp peak of his cheekbone. Tony’s eyes were damp, amber light shining softly in the gold of the foyer. He smiled a small sad smile that spoke of days long past that could never be undone or forgotten. Tony reached up a gentle hand and wiped away the tear. Stephen smiled back at him, a true, honest affection that spoke only of trust.

“Are you sure?” Tony’s words were slow and nervous. Stephen nodded. Tony could get anything from him with so much as a look.

“Of course.” He held out his wrist, trying to hold his hand steady. “Would you do me the honor?”

Tony’s eyes, like a sunrise over a mountain lake, told Stephen an answer with a clarity that words could never fulfill. He took the watch from him and slowly clasped the band around Stephen’s thin, pale wrist. Tony’s deft fingers brushed against his skin and Stephen shivered. Tony’s hands were hot, sending a wave of warmth washing over Stephen’s cold skin. It was like the sun was rising on a cold, frozen world, warm rays flooding up his veins and nerves and melting desire into his very flesh. Dear lord he’d give himself to this man, no matter what Tony decided to do with him. Every part of him belonged to Tony Stark, even if he didn’t know it yet. He longed to melt into Tony’s touch, feel that blazing heat burning his veins until he was on fire, crumbling from the inside out. He longed to fall to his knees before the love of his life, to moan Tony’s name, to cry his heart out just so Tony could reach into his chest and claim it in his bloody fingers.

A sharp click cleared the fog filling his head. He blinked hard. He felt like hitting himself. God, every time he was around Tony he lost his damn mind. But it was just so close to the days Stephen had so adored… it was easy to let time slip over itself and color the present with the past and the future. But he wasn’t in the past. Not anymore. Tony’s hands fell away from his wrist, but he snagged Tony’s fingers with his own, clasping their hands together. Tony’s smile was better than any drug or blade or blood-stained promise the past had to offer.

“It’s beautiful.” He shifted his wrist back and forth, humming in appreciation. The way the shadows and flickering, prismatic light played on the glass- it was breathtaking. Tony smiled, fingers hot against Stephen’s skin.

“I wanted to get you something special. You deserve it, Stephen. More than anyone else.”

Stephen flushed. Tony’s words rushed straight to his head, dizzying his vision.

“I don’t know why on Earth why.”

Tony, blinked, then looked away. A tiny smile played at his lips, and a flush painted his cheeks the color of English roses in a French garden. Beautiful.

“I like you, Stephen. A lot.” He chuckled sadly. “A helluva lot more than I probably should, if I’m being honest. And, well, I want to show you just how much you mean to me! I’ll get you anything you want. Jewelry, nice clothes, fancy teas, old books- whatever it is that you like. Just name it and I’ll buy it for you,” Tony said, clasping their hands close to his chest.

Stephen frowned. He didn’t like the desperation swimming in Tony’s eyes. He didn’t need nice things to stay, but it seemed that that was what Tony thought. But from what he gathered of Tony’s past, it wasn’t exactly out of character. Tony had been used for years and years and years for nothing but his money and his mind. People had pretended to care only to abandon him at a moments notice, gutting his body and pulling cold, hard cash from his bleeding carcass. And now… now it looked like that had taken over his mind, beating him relentlessly until he caved to the blows, convinced that the only way he knew how to love was through money. Stephen hated it. Tony deserved the goddamn world, but all the past had done was hurt him. Seeing him now- Stephen wanted to wrap him up in the cloak until the whole world faded away and it was only them. To hold him close and whisper comforting words as he erased the invisible tears of heartbreak past.

“You don’t need to get me anything, Tony.”

Tony frowned like he truly believed Stephen didn’t want him.

“But-”

“I love the watch, and I love that you thought of me, but you don’t need to get me anything else. You don’t need to by my affection. You alone are enough for me.” Dawn broke in Tony’s eyes. Stephen smiled, squeezing Tony’s hands despite the flare of pain that shot through his nerves. “I really like you, Tony. And not because you bought me a watch.”

“Oh.”

A tiny smile crept to Tony’s face and Stephen felt his heart swell. Seeing Tony happy, well it had always made him happy in the past, but now- now whenever he so much as saw Tony sigh he felt a wave of peace washing over him. Like all his worries had faded away into the pastoral background of a fading lavender sky. Once more, the air of a memory seemed more accurate than any physical description. This one, in place of that beautiful beach, was like the first winds of autumn, crisp and cool and the brightest shades of orange and gold. The feeling of the first cold rays of the sun hitting just enough to send shivers running down Stephen’s spine. The comfort and sheer, undiluted joy of snuggling up under a blanket, cold fingers thawed by the warmth of the apple cider in hand. It was incredible. His heart fluttered. It tickled his lungs and sent warmth spiraling throughout his whole body. Stephen had to fight back the bubbly urge to giggle. He hadn’t felt this way, well, ever.

It was scary.

His smile faltered. It had been far easier not to feel at all than all of the- the _ turmoil _ building in his chest. But now, as he looked at Tony, a creeping warmth spread outwards from his chest, burning his skin and scalding his veins. He shivered. Why did he feel like this?! Why did _ Tony _ make him feel like this?! What did this Tony have that his lost love didn’t?

Stephen’s head was screaming at him, red lights flashing in his mind. This wasn’t right. This was different. This was amazing. This was chaotic. This was overwhelming! Why couldn’t things just go back to how they used to be, before this unstoppable adoration played his heart like a puppet? Before Tony could fell him with one honest smile? Before he could find pleasure in things other than the gore and fire of their passion?

A flash of searing heat shot through his fingers and he let go of Tony’s hands, shaking them out with a gentle hiss. Tony watched him, clearly concerned.

“Are you okay? Do you need anything?”

“I’m fine. Just give me a second.”

Stephen massaged his palms. The pain was grounding, cutting through the warm, dizzying heat that was filling his mind. Stephen didn’t know why he felt like this, but maybe it was just a phase. Maybe he could get through it. He just needed to be cool and pragmatic, to keep a level head. If he just acted like himself- like his _ true _ self- then everything would come to pass. He needed to cut off his emotions and watch as they suffocated, writhing on the ballroom floor. Love held no place for empathy, and he needed to remember that. He needed to focus on his goal. He needed to find his Tony again, no matter how… nice the warmth in his chest felt. But he could feel his control slipping away by the second, threatening to reveal a terrifying truth.

He turned back to Tony with a dazzling smile.

“Sorry about that, darling. Now where were we?” he said with all the flair of a stage magician. Tony snickered. “Ah yes! I was about to escort my dear Tony Stark into the ball.” He held out his elbow to Tony and the genius took it, rolling his eyes. “Shall we?”

“I keep forgetting how dramatic you can be.”

“You know you love it. Now come, we have people to dazzle.”

And with that, they strolled into a war zone masquerading as a charity ball.

There were people _ everywhere _. Talking, laughing, drinking flutes of champagne- the whole ordeal. Music from a small band playing on a raised stage and voices echoed off the large domed ceiling. Everything was bathed in gold, from the sparkling shards of light filtering through the swaying crystals of the chandeliers to the gilding on the peach colored marble walls. It was… magical. The center of the floor was occupied by couples sweeping across the floor and twirling hypnotically under the soft lights. The sides of the rooms were filled with small tables and a few stray champagne towers.

They walked further into the room and Stephen felt Tony’s grip on his arm tighten just a little. Stephen looked around. There were many people he didn’t recognize, the occasional familiar face from the news, and the Avengers he had already met prior to the event. Natasha stood in an elegant black dress with elbow length gloves, somehow able to look both intimidating and beautiful at the same time, talking to Rhodey and Scott, both clad in crisp, dark suits. Stephen smiled politely at them, scanning the room for Peter. Beside him, Tony continued to hold his arm with an iron grip.

Then the crowd parted and Stephen locked eyes with the so called ‘first Avenger.’ Captain ass-dick Rodgers. Tony’s fingers dug into his arm hard enough to leave marks at the sight of the Captain. Stephen tore his glare from Steve and looked over at Tony, an action he should have done minutes ago.

Tony’s eyes skittered around the room nervously, eyelids fluttering faster with each passing second. He was biting his lip hard, clearly trying to stay calm, but the rapid rise and fall in his chest betrayed him. He was oddly twitchy, clinging to Stephen like he was a lifeline. The second his eyes fell on Rodgers his entire body tensed up and he stumbled backwards, letting out a small, high-pitched whimper.

It was a panic attack.

Stephen shot one last glare towards the Captain and pulled Tony close to his side. Tony tucked himself under his arm, back hunching and eyes filling with tears. Stephen walked them out of the ballroom as fast as he could and into a nearly empty hallway. The second they were away from the party Tony stumbled to the wall, sliding down to sit on the floor with his back to the wall, knees close to his chest. He pulled off his mask and threw it to the ground beside him. He closed his eyes and tucked his head down, hands fidgeting faster than the speed of light. His breathing grew faster and faster, fear looming in every desperate gasp.

Stephen stayed a little ways away, sure to give Tony space to breath. If Tony wanted to touch him, he could let him know. But for now, Stephen needed to solve this from a distance.

“Shh… Shh… It’s okay, Tony. No one’s here. It’s just us, I promise,” he whispered, voice soft and slow and deeper than the snow-covered valleys of a mountain range. Tony let out a small, choked sob and Stephen’s heart squeezed painfully. “It’s okay. You don’t need to calm down immediately, just try your best to focus on me. To focus on my voice.” He sat down across from Tony. “Here, I’m going to ask you some questions and I want you to try your best to answer, okay?” Tony nodded. Stephen smiled softly. “Okay, what’s your favorite color?”

It took a second, but Tony fought through the sobs and choked out an answer. “R-Red.”

“Yeah. Red’s a nice color. I mean, my favorite has always been blue, but red’s definitely in my top three,” Stephen said, keeping his voice calm and slow. Tony’s sobs slowed a little. Stephen continued. “Now what’s your favorite animal?”

His answer was faster this time.

“Alpacas.”

“Those are fun,” Stephen said. He shifted a little closer to Tony, watching as the genius’s rapid breathing began to slow, even if just a little. “Hey, let me tell you a joke. What do you call an alpaca with carrots in its ears?”

“What?” Tony sniffled.

“Anything you want! It can’t hear you!” Stephen exclaimed with a flair.

Tony snickered through his tears. He took a deep, shuddery breath and Stephen smiled, scooting closer to face him. Tony’s hands found his and gripped them like a lifeline.

“Alright,” Stephen started, voice serious once more. Tony’s eyes, still filled with fear and panic, met his. “Now I need you to focus for a bit. I know that’s going to seem like the hardest thing in the world right now, but I want you to try your best, okay?” Tony nodded again. “Now we’re going to play a game. Can you name five things that you can see?”

“I-I can see a vase, um, a painting, a table, a lamp and…” Tony’s eyes darted around before focusing back on Stephen. “Your eyes,” he finished, voice softening at the end.

“There you go. Perfect,” Stephen murmured. “Now can you name four things you can feel?” Stephen prompted. The haze in Tony’s eyes was clearing.

“I can feel… the carpet, the wall, my tears, and your hands.”

“Now three things you can hear.”

“Music, air conditioner, and people talking.”

“Last ones, two things you can smell and one thing you can taste.”

“I-I can smell flowers and your cologne and I can taste salt,” Tony finished, eyes clearing more with each item. Stephen smiled, giving Tony’s hands a gentle squeeze.

“There you go, baby. You did so well. I’m so proud of you,” Stephen whispered.

Tony’s chest shuddered and he pulled Stephen closer to him until both their backs were flush against the wall. Tony’s eyes drifted lower and lower until they were almost shut, the last few tears trickling slowly down his cheeks. He sniffled. His breathing had evened out, exhaustion all that was left in the aftermath of the storm. He plonked his head on Stephen’s shoulder and Stephen wrapped his arm around his shoulders, rubbing small circles into his back. They stayed like that for a little while, silent as the last of Tony’s sobs left his delicate frame. Stephen found solace in the warmth of Tony’s body and the comfort he was able to provide.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

Tony sat up, hands against Stephen’s chest. He looked up at Stephen with such earnest sincerity that Stephen felt like he had been shot.

“No. Really. I ruined your evening.” He looked down, tears pooling in his eyes once more. “You don’t deserve this, Stephen.”

“Please don’t say that, Tony.” Stephen pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead and brushed a few locks of hair from his face. “I care about you. I want to see you happy, and if that means never leaving your side even as you go through hell, then I promise I’ll always take care of you, for better or for worse.” He paused. Tony’s wide eyes looked like glittering stars. He smiled softly. “You deserve it, Tony. Of all the people in the world, you deserve to be happy far more than anyone else. I’ll take you at your best and I’ll take you at your worst so long as you let me be the person to stay by your side and help you towards a future you can be happy with,” he vowed.

Tony’s eyes were dangerously wet. He sniffled once more and Stephen tensed, ready for another round of tears. Then Tony flung his arms around Stephen’s neck and buried his head in his shoulder. Stephen let out a startled laugh and gently patted Tony’s back. Tony was warm against him, but instead of the blazing inferno he was so accustomed to, it was a softer, more subtle warmth. Like sitting by a crackling fire on a winters day. Stephen liked it.

“Thank you.”

Tony’s words were muffled, but they meant more to Stephen than words could possibly convey.

“Anything for you.”

Stephen wanted Tony to feel as safe as possible. He hated seeing Tony curled up and crying as the world kicked and beat and gutted him, tearing apart his heart and mind until all he could see was his failures. He hated seeing Tony hurt like this. He longed to see Tony laugh, smile brighter than a field of sunflowers. He wanted to see Tony content with himself, proud of what he had done, and satisfied with the life he had led. It was his job, after all, to take care of his partner. It was any good partner’s job. To make sure their loved one was safe, was comfortable, was _ happy _. Stephen’s hand stilled.

So why hadn’t his Tony done that for him?

Stephen’s face darkened and he hugged Tony just a little closer to him. There had been countless instances where he’d been in Tony’s position, beaten senseless by the own demons in his mind. Wracked with anxiety so bad he couldn’t move. So horribly depressed all he could see was death in every object around him. But Tony had never done anything about it. He’d just sneered and stalked away, only calling Stephen back to his side when it suited him.

It felt like Stephen’s lungs had been shredded by glass. Thin ribbons of flesh fluttering weakly as he tried desperately to breath, blood filling the empty cavities in his chest in place of oxygen until he was choking on the only thing that had bound them together.

It was such an obvious fact. So easy to point out when looked at on a quantitative level, but so goddamn impossible to understand when faced with the minutiae of emotion.

Tony had never loved him, had he?

The words burned hot in Stephen’s mind. They carved out their bloody claims across his skin and clogged his throat with the truth of the past. He hadn’t meant anything to Tony beyond a pretty face, a submissive body, and a conduit for power. His Tony hadn’t cared about him at all. It was so abundantly clear that Stephen felt like hitting himself.

He blinked slowly. Regret washed over him, slow and corrosive and viscous. He had fucked up. He had been fucked up. He was so enchanted by Tony and so desperate to be loved that he hadn’t been able to see just how badly Tony had broken him. Broken bones and bloody smiles don’t equal affection. Rough sex and burn marks don’t equal care. Manipulation and abuse aren’t love.

Stephen pressed his eyes closed.

God he was a fucking mess. He couldn’t even remember what he’d been like before he’d met Tony. He couldn’t even remember who he was beyond the marks that Tony had carved into his flesh, beyond the marks that claimed him as property. He was so fucking broken. He couldn’t tell pleasure from pain. He couldn’t tell abuse from affection. And he damned well couldn’t tell love from obsession. He didn’t even know if he had a purpose left in the world aside from Tony. He had done everything for that man, he had _ killed _ for that man, and for what? Empty whispers of adoration and a knife to his back? And what could he do now? Tony was gone. He was really, truly gone, but all Stephen could do was cling to the shadows of the past. God, how wrong was it that even after how much Tony had hurt him, how much he had burned and broken and beaten him, that he still longed for, still _ needed _, Tony’s attention?

A single tear trickled down his cheek and he buried his face in his Tony’s hair. It smelled like apples.

He didn’t know what to do now.

Tony sniffled in his arms and Stephen was dragged back down to Earth. He held Tony close, murmuring gentle words of comfort to the tired man, hoping that even if he couldn’t bring himself to find happiness that maybe he could help someone else find it.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really. Not now.”

“Okay. Do you want to stay here?”

“Yes.”

“Then we’ll stay here as long as you wish.”

The dread of his realization was agonizingly slow. It wasn’t the kind of grief that hit you full on in one big tidal wave of pain, but more of a creeping frost inching up his legs and freezing over his body millimeter by shattering millimeter until every centimeter of his body was stiff and cold and one touch away from shattering into a million pieces. Being alone was terrifying, but acknowledging the past was an unfathomable nightmare that lurked in the shadowy corners of his mind. His life, his love, his entire goddamn _ world _had collapsed around him and he was in no shape to pick up the broken pieces. He was left in the dark, the last person who’d impacted his existence gone, for better or for worse.

But Tony had hurt him. He had beaten and burned him repeatedly, lapping up his blood with a twisted smile as Stephen cried for the touch of an uncaring god. He had broken and bent Stephen until the only thing that made him happy was Tony’s approval. That he would do anything to get that approval. Tony had twisted his mind until Stephen could’t see anything but his angel of death’s cold eyes and the feeling of a blade carving ownership into his fragile skin. All he had wanted was to be loved. All he had wanted was a family, for them to be happy together, to raise Peter like their own. But that hadn’t been what Tony had wanted. And now, after being cracked and shattered and taped back together, Stephen could see that Tony would never have cared enough about his wishes to indulge his dreams.

Tony hadn’t cared about him, after all. All he had been to Tony was a pretty face and a weapon of mass destruction and a canvas to paint over with his sadistic pleasure in blood then fuck until the world spun and Stephen blacked out, limp body shaking from Tony’s brutal thrusts. He hadn’t meant anything to Tony, he just liked to think that he did. It had all started out so nice, after all. Tony had been the perfect gentleman in the beginning, taking Stephen to only the finest restaurants and showering him with gifts and praise and beautiful promises of devotion. He had raised Stephen up from the broken pavement where he had lain and shown him the loyalty and kindness and adoration Stephen had been deprived of. He had lured him close under the false pretense of sweet nothings.

Or maybe they had been in love, in the beginning. Maybe Tony truly had cared for him. Maybe there was a time when they had both been happy; when they had both been happy _ together _. Maybe Tony had adored Stephen just as much as Stephen had cared for him. But that still didn’t excuse everything Tony had done to him. Even if they had once been in love, there was a place it had curled up and died, icing over Tony’s heart and leaving Stephen terrified of being alone. But maybe, just maybe, everything had been perfect in the beginning.

But when things had changed… when Tony had focused more and more on tearing the world apart out of sheer madness and hatred, well, it hadn’t mattered if they had been in love or not, that had been the beginning of the end. Even as he ripped Stephen apart at the seams, even as he cut and gutted and bleached his bones, Stephen had longed to find affection in his actions. With every slap he told himself there was only adoration, with every cut he told himself that it was only passion, with every black eye and bloody razor blade and tear he cried he told himself there was only love until one day he could bring himself to see just that and nothing more. He called Tony’s abuse love until he believed it himself. He had lost himself and torn his heart from his chest just to offer it to Tony on his hands and knees, chest filling with hot, sticky, sickeningly sweet blood until he was choking on every desperate breath. He forced himself to find happiness in pain just because pain made the man he painted over with the word ‘lover’ smile. He’d tear himself apart, cutting open his chest and his stomach to pull out his frozen organs and paint devotion with his blood and bile, to rip the beating life from his chest until broken bones and blood and blue butterflies poured from his abdomen like pure adoration in its most addictive form. He’d kill everyone who so much as looked at Tony the wrong way, cutting them apart inch by inch with a fire unrivaled by love so strong the gods themselves feared his wrath. He’d kill for Tony, he’d die for Tony, he’d destroy the goddamn world he had sworn to protect so long ago if only Tony would love him. He would do fucking anything just to see Tony smile, just for Tony to touch him, just for Tony to _ look _at him.

But now… now he was all alone. He was in a new world, with a new beginning and a new future. He could do anything he wanted. He was free from the monster he had called his lover.

So why did he still miss him?

The thought made Stephen want to curl up and cry. Tony had hurt him so goddamn much. He had cut and bruised and burned him until his skin was more scars than anything else. He had broken Stephen’s mind and drowned his soul. He had damaged Stephen beyond repair. So why did he still long for Tony, pain and sadism and all? Was the thought of being alone really so terrifying? Of course it was. Stephen couldn’t function on his own. He had always been broken, always been pathetic, but Tony, even if he had hurt him, had at least been _ there _. Tony had grounded him in the beginning, back when things had been good, and after being with him so long, Stephen couldn’t see himself without Tony by his side. He was the supreme controller of time itself, yet he was stuck reliving the past over and over again. He couldn’t see the present or the future anymore, only the story that that had already run its course, starting high and ending low. Ending alone.

He was going to end alone.

They stayed like that for awhile, their backs against the wall, Tony’s head resting on his shoulder and Stephen’s head on his. Tony clasped their hands between their laps, grip loose and gentle, but still there. The noise of the party had faded into the background, the loudest thing to Stephen their gentle breaths. Stephen loved how Tony looked in this lighting, shadows playing across his skin like the winter wind over a plane of dusty snow. Even sad, even exhausted, even desperate, Tony was beautiful. Stephen just wished his eyes didn’t carry such bad memories.

Tony squeezed his hand ever so gently. The slight shift in pressure was all Stephen needed to shift his head and meet Tony’s eyes.

“Alright. I-I’m ready,” Tony said.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Let’s go back to the party.” Tony stood. He tied his mask around his face once more, smiling. He turned and offered Stephen a hand, eyes glittering softly. “Besides, I think I owe you a dance.”

The second they stepped on the dance floor together everyone stopped and stared. The entire room fell silent, save the music swirling around them like snow; endless, blinding and as cutting as ice. Stephen looked down at Tony and he tried his best to feel happy, but despite his efforts all he could feel was discomfort. Seeing Tony’s face- all it made Stephen feel anymore was dread. The Gods had played their cards, and this hand left Stephen lost and confused in a quagmire of confusion. He supposed that he had always felt that cold sense of fear whenever he saw Tony, but now, under the gaze of truth, he could finally put a name to the emotion. For too long desperation had masqueraded under the guise of love. But now- now Tony was dead and gone and buried, far far away from Stephen. The barriers of space and time and death separated them, yet Stephen still didn’t feel safe. Even though the man he had loved, the man who had carved his name into Stephen’s flesh over and over and over again, was long gone, Stephen still found himself overflowing with desperation and obsession and fear as he danced a waltz of teetering combustion hand in hand with a shadow of the past. He was so broken that even though this Tony was far removed from the destruction-wrought world he had left behind all he saw when he looked at Tony was a beaming, bloody smile and endless pain and a river of tears. It was pathetic. _ He _was pathetic.

Stephen couldn’t feel happy, but to be fair, Tony didn’t look jazzed either. His eyes were beginning to dart around the room once more, snapping from camera to shocked face then back to Stephen. Fear dawned in his eyes, face tensing as he realised that, even though they had managed to escape the suffocating binds of reality in that little hallway if just for a short while, that he, Tony Stark, was never truly out of the spotlight. That every single move of his was criticized and examined. That there was no such thing as privacy or love left in the age of paranoia.

Tony’s breathing quickened, chest beginning to rise and fall faster and faster with each longing note of the violin. Tears welled in his eyes once more and Stephen felt his heart break all over again.

Despite appearances, even after all that had happened, this wasn’t his Tony.

His Tony had been a tyrant, a ruler sitting on a throne of madness and broken glass. This Tony, this Tony was a gentle god setting stars over all his hands touched. Where his Tony had seen nothing but a pretty face and a willing slut, this Tony saw a mind as vast as his own and a figure of comfort and trust. Where his Tony had carved the moon into his chest, filling his mind with frost and bloody ice, this Tony had placed the sun, golden heat pooling in the empty cavity his heart had once lain. This Tony was different. This Tony was kind and gentle and caring. This Tony cared about Stephen. And Stephen cared about him.

But how could someone as broken as him love a man with the same face as his nightmares?

Stephen felt his heart drop. He couldn’t. Not yet, at least. But he could try his best. It was the least that Tony deserved, afterall. Tony deserved the sun and the moon and the stars in the sky, but if Stephen could even offer him just the tiniest sliver of the planets, then maybe that would be enough. It was the best thing that Stephen could do with the rest of his life.

Tony let out a tiny, terrified groan and Stephen fell back from outer space and into his beloved’s arms. Tony was scared.

“What’s wrong, Tony?” he said.

Tony gulped, blinking rapidly as his eyes fluttered around the ballroom.

“They’re all- They’re all staring-”

Stephen pulled Tony close, murmuring in his ear.

“So what? Why does it matter if they watch? You’re here with me, Tony. And I promise, so long as you let me, so long as you trust me, none of them will do so much as touch you. I just need you to let go. Take a deep breath and focus on me. Focus on us.”

Tony closed his eyes. Stephen watched as he took a deep, shaky breath, then another more steady one. He opened his eyes and Stephen offered him a tiny smile. Tony returned it nervously.

“There, isn’t that better?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Exactly. Just focus on me, Tony. Let everything else fade away until its us and only us. Nothing in the world matters right now, okay? The world could crash and burn and we’d be safe and sound, darling. I promise.”

Tony paused, biting his lip nervously.

“Why are you doing this Stephen? Why are you helping me? What is it that you want?”

Stephen stilled for a second, staring at a face so familiar he saw it every time he closed his eyes.

“Because I care for you, Tony.”

“But why?”

“I-” Stephen blinked. He had thought it was obvious. “Because you’re incredible, Tony. Your mind is vaster that the seas of space and your heart is kinder than the sun’s delicate rays. You keep going even when the world tears you apart. You strive to protect this doomed world. You choose to see humanity as kind and caring and selfless even when it’s only proven itself otherwise time and time again. You’re special, Tony, you hear me? And I don’t ever want that to change.”

Tony’s smile was the best thing in the world. Scared and unsure, but earnest and filled with a golden kind of hope so pure that just seeing it filled Stephen with a soft warmth.

“Thank you, Stephen,” he whispered, words softer than the starless sea. “I think you’re the first person to envy my presence.”

Stephen leaned in close and pressed a gentle kiss to Tony’s jaw.

“Oh darling I’d envy the rose between your teeth,” he purred.

Tony giggled and swatted him away.

“Stephen! They’re still watching us!” he snickered, laughter as clear and pure as midsummer starshine.

“Then let’s give them something to watch.”

Stephen smirked at him before reeling him out and twirling his lover under his arm with all the flair of an exploding star. Tony let out a surprised whoop as Stephen pulled him flush to his chest before dipping him, hand finding its way down to hook under Tony’s thigh. Tony laughed and Stephen felt his heart soar. This was what love felt like. It was light, it was freeing, it was endless nostalgia dipped in hazy breezes- not sticky and viscous and suffocating. Stephen liked it. Stephen leaned close to Tony, brushing away a stray hair from his forehead. He carefully undid his mask then Tony’s, clutching them both in his free hand.

Tony’s lips were parted, the softest of breaths gracing his beautiful, ruby-red lips. His eyes, those beautiful chips of amber and koa wood and the molten gold of sunrise over an open bay glittered softly in the light of the chandeliers, far more beautiful than anything else in the goddamn universe. Stephen licked his lips and smiled, soft and true. Tears welled in his eyes and he bit back a lump in his throat. He was happy. Tony was happy. Everything had slipped away into the background, noise and music and shining lights fading into a pastel blur of champagne bubbles and golden warmth. Everything was perfect.

Everything was finally perfect.

“How do you do this?” Tony whispered. “How are you so confident?”

“What do you mean?”

Tony’s hand drifted up to his neck, brushing against the silver heart close to his throat.

“How can you do stuff like this without being afraid?”

His words were softer than a summer mist.

“Everyone wears a mask, some more so than others, and sometimes confidence just another piece of it.” Tony frowned at his words. Stephen pulled him from the dip, sending them sweeping across the dance floor once more. “But sometimes it’s as easy as just letting go. Sometimes it’s just as easy as doing what you like simply because it makes you happy. Sometimes it’s as easy as remembering you can _be_ happy.” Stephen gestured around the room with his head. Tony’s eyes raked across the crowds. “There, see? Nothing to worry about. Everything’s okay. No one really cares. The second they see that you’re happy and that they aren’t bothering you they lose all interest. So I say screw them. You always come first, Tony, not their opinion of you.”

The song slowed and they slowed with it, swaying gently in place, hands clasped together. A smile inched its way onto Tony’s face the same way the sun rose in the morning. His eyes shone in the golden light of the chandeliers as he stared up at Stephen with his big, sad, doe eyes. A blush rose to Tony’s cheeks. He pulled Stephen a little bit closer, their chests millimeters apart. His eyes flickered from Stephen’s silvery-green eyes down to his lips and back up again. He let out a sigh so soft it was nearly lost in the noise of the outside world. Stephen smiled down at him with all the warmth and affection of the sun. This was perfect.

“Thank you,” Tony whispered.

Stephen’s hand steadied itself on the small of Tony’s back and Tony’s arms laced themselves behind Stephen’s neck. Tony’s chocolate eyes seemed to sparkle with tiny flecks of gold, soft streaks of rust red mixed in with the fawn and warmth of mahogany. His eyes closed and he leaned towards Stephen like a tree bending in the wind, branches stretching towards the sky. Stephen caved like the mountains of the ocean, leaning down to meet their lips in a spark of pure starlight. They were so close they could feel their breath playing on each other’s lips. Stephen smiled. This was perfect.

“Tony! There you are! I’ve been looking for you all night.”

That goddamn voice cut through their beautiful moment and smashed it to pieces, ground the glittering shards into dust, and snorted it like a fine cocaine. Stephen turned towards the voice, more than ready to strangle its source.

It was fucking Steve.

Never in his life had Stephen wanted to gut and drain a human being so much before. He stood up straighter, letting his arm linger on Tony’s hip. He didn’t miss the way Steve’s face tightened as his eyes flickered down to his hand and back up to Stephen’s face. Stephen glared at him, the fire in his eyes daring Steve to take even one step closer.

“What do you want, Rogers?” Stephen growled.

Steve looked straight past him, making eye contact with Tony, who quickly looked away.

“Tony, can we talk? There’s something I need to tell you,” he said.

Tony’s eyes flickered from Stephen to Steve and back again.

“I don’t-”

“Can’t this wait? Tony and I were dancing together,” Stephen said, exasperated. His arms found their place on Tony’s hips once more but Steve refused to move.

“It’ll only take a second, Tones. You know, why don’t we just discuss it over a quick dance?” Steve wheedled, holding out his hand for Tony. Tony eyed it apprehensively. Stephen rolled his eyes.

“Really? You’re really doing this Rogers?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You see something you don’t have and now you want it. Well newsflash, we were perfectly happy before you came along, so kindly fuck off,” Stephen snapped.

Steve looked like he had popped a blood vessel.

“Excuse me, you have no right to speak to me that way!”

“Really? Because I just did.”

“You disrespectful little-”

“Steve, please stop.” Tony’s voice was small, but both of them promptly quieted. “I’ve had a long day and I don’t want the two of you to fight.”

Stephen and Steve both stared at him incredulously before blurting out all at once.

“Why should I stop?! He’s the one who started it!”

“Are you seriously going to listen to him?!”

Stephen rolled his eyes in disgust.

“Don’t listen to him Tony. All he’s done is hurt you. The only reason he’s all hot and bothered is because you’re finally happy.”

“Can you even hear what he’s saying, Tony?! He’s been here what, four months? Five? And how long have we known each other? Years? We have history, Tony. Doesn’t what I say mean more to you than him?”

“Well you may have history but he and I have a future.”

“That’s bullshit! He’s lying, Tony. Can’t you see it? All he’s doing is hurting you!”

“Oh really? Isn’t that exactly what you used to do to Tony?!”

“That was different-”

“Oh really? Explain.”

“Well I-”

Tony let out an irritated sigh.

“Oh for Christ’s sake would you two just shut the fuck up?!” They both fell silent. “God you two are like children!” Tony snapped. “Stephen, stop trying to provoke Steve, and Steve, for the love of all that is holy, stop trying to push me and Stephen apart! We were having a nice time and it was rude of you to interrupt us. I’ll come find you later to talk, but for now, I’d like to continue my dance with Stephen.”

They resumed their position and Stephen watched as Steve fumed.

“Tony, just please-”

“No, Steve. I’ll talk to you later.”

Stephen and Tony began to sway to the music once more. Stephen’s hands rested on Tony’s hips as if he was claiming the man in his arms. Steve glared at him hard enough to burn holes in his head. Stephen pulled Tony even closer, their chests flush together. He pressed a kiss to Tony’s jaw and smirked at Steve, winking at the Captain with a sneer on his face.

Steve lost it.

He stomped forwards and grabbed Tony’s wrist, yanking him out of Stephen’s arms. Tony clawed desperately at his fingers, but Steve didn’t budge.

“Tony you’re coming with me!” he snarled, face twisted with anger. Tony stared up at him with wide fearful eyes. Stephen cracked his knuckles and summoned a set of fighting runes.

“Don’t you dare touch him!”

“God Tony can’t you see? He’s using you! He doesn’t really care about you! All he wants you for is sex or money or _something_! Stop fighting! Just fucking come with me!”

“Steve stop!”

“I swear to the Vishanti, Rogers, if you hurt him I will tear out your spine one vertebrae at a time,” Stephen hissed, fire in his eyes. Steve gestured at him with his free hand.

“Can’t you see how bad he is for you?!”

Tony writhed in his grip, tears forming in his eyes. Steve made no move to let go. Around them the people of the party had backed up, murmuring worriedly.

“Can’t you see that he’s hurting you?! Can’t you see that I’m better for you?!” Steve growled.

“Ow ow stop Steve! You’re hurting me! Stop!”

“Let go of him Rogers!”

“Steve- please! Stop!”

Something in Steve’s eyes cleared and he let go of Tony’s arm, a look of horror on his face. He backed away slowly, regret evident in every feature. Tony ran to Stephen’s side, clutching his wrist gingerly. Stephen cast aside his runes and examined Tony’s wrist. It was already starting to bruise. Super strength. His head snapped up and he glared at Steve with the heat of a thousand suns. Steve was a dead man walking. Tony trembled and Stephen pulled him close to his chest, cradling him in his arms. Steve’s mouth opened and closed wordlessly.

“Oh God… Oh God Tony I’m sorry-”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Stephen snapped. “How are you so fucking conceited? How are you so wrapped up in your little self-righteous fantasy that you can’t see how much you hurt everyone around you?”

Steve’s face fell. “I-”

“You act like a petulant child and throw a fit when you don’t get your way. You can’t always get what you want, you asshole. You’re not entitled to Tony’s life, and you’re not wanted in it, either. So do us all a favor and kindly fuck off before I portal you halfway across the goddamn universe.”

“But I-”

“Leave. Now.”

Steve turned and left. A sob shook Tony’s frame and Stephen ran a comforting hand through his hair, peppering his face with comforting kisses. Someone had hurt his flower. Stephen murmured soft words of comfort to Tony’s trembling frame, wincing as Tony’s tears wet his shirt with betrayal and misery. Someone had hurt his starshine. Stephen held him close and rocked them back and forth, trying to drown out the cacophony nesting in Tony’s mind. Someone would have to pay. Tony’s beautiful innocent doe eyes were filled with sparkling tears, wrist turning purple and blue. Stephen wrapped his arms around his love and pulled him away from Steve, away from the onlooking crowds and towards the balcony.

Steve would fucking pay for what he had done, even if it was the last thing Stephen did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love all your comments! Tell me what your favorite animal is! I personally like whales, leopard geckos, and big cats
> 
> Chapter title is from 'Strange Love' (ha get it) by Halsey
> 
> Stephen: I need to get Tony to hate Steve.  
Steve: breaths  
Stephen: it’s free real estate


	9. I Know My Soul's Freezing, Hell's Hot for Good Reason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy holidays! As your present to ring in the new year, have a sweet happy fluffy chapter! It's short and sweet! yay! tbh it's probably the happiest chapter of the whole fic, so...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning- talk of abuse (spans the whole chapter)

The second the doors of the balcony closed the world went quiet around them. Stephen took a deep breath of cold fresh air. The air seemed even colder without the life and music of the gala. He shivered, lungs stinging with invisible shrapnel. The sky was big and clear and endless above them, stretching out like the pure, lapis-blue ocean of infinity. The cold sharpened the stars, the deep, royal color of the backdrop a whetstone to their razor blade edges. The moon hung in the sky like an aperture into a dimension of endless light. Stephen tucked his hands close to his body. The cold always bothered his damaged tendons, but at the same time, the way the freezing temperature played the stars light just a little bit clearer almost made the pain worth it.

Beside him, Tony shuddered. A tiny puff of air escaped his stinging lungs, playing on his lips as it wafted up into the icy backdrop of the winter sky. Stephen rubbed his hands together, muttering an incantation under his breath. Gentle golden runes fell from his fingers like sunlight and dripped onto the floor of the balcony, racing across the ground and up the walls, encasing the entire enclosure in a golden bubble. The runes pulsed faintly, then faded into a brilliant burst of golden fireflies. The temperature of the balcony rose to a comfortable seventy five degrees, warmth washing over their shivering figures. Beside him, Tony let out a gentle laugh.

Stephen’s eyes wandered over to the man who had captured his affections. He was beautiful, gold and silver and glittering light all at once, like an Angel masquerading as a human. The smile that graced his face was tender and gentle, the kind of raw emotion only allowed in the most private of moments. Stephen felt his throat tighten. Tony, for better or worse, was an open book, emotions playing across his face like sunlight through a stained glass window. To see someone so real and genuine- it made Stephen’s heart skip a beat. Tony reached out a gentle hand, a firefly alighting on the tip of his finger. He looked up at Stephen with the kind of sentiment reserved for movie screens.

“Neat trick, Doc,” Tony said, some of the strain leaving his voice.

Stephen smiled, a witty comeback on his lips when he saw Tony’s wrist held close to his chest.

“Is your arm okay?” he asked. Tony looked away, rubbing his wrist.

“Yeah. It’s fine.”

“Let me see it.”

Stephen stepped forwards. Tony didn’t meet his eyes, still holding his arm close to him. Stephen paused, looking down at Tony carefully, hands hovering by Tony’s sides. Stephen let out a short sigh and took Tony’s arm, touch as gentle as the wings of a crippled butterfly. He pushed up Tony’s sleeve and grit his teeth at what he saw. Bruises were already spreading out beneath his skin like spilled watercolors, purple and yellow and the sickest shade of blue. They looped around his wrist and down his arm, following the paths of his veins, but most distinctly, stark against the rest, were the deep, strange purple-blue imprints of a hand. Of  _ Steve’s  _ hand. Stephen had never wanted to eviscerate someone more in his life. His fingertips ghosted over the swollen flesh, tracing gentle marks of comfort over Tony’s injury. It was definitely sprained. Sprained by America’s so-called ‘golden child.’ Stephen felt nauseous. This only made him hate Steve more.

He took a deep breath and brought two glowing fingers to Tony’s arm, tracing out runes older than civilisation itself. Golden lines, bright in the darkness of the night, followed his fingers path. He completed the runes, drawing his fingers back and muttering an ancient incantation under his breath. He pressed the inside of Tony’s wrist to his lips. The runes pulsed with heat and the bruises faded from his skin. Stephen pulled his lips away from Tony’s wrist to meet his eyes. In the quiet of the endless icy night sky, Tony’s gaze was soft and warm and filled with a sadness far beyond his age.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Tony whispered.

Stephen turned over Tony’s hand in his, peppering gentle kisses to the genius’s knuckles.

“I’m sorry. I just don’t know what I’d do with myself if you got hurt. I hate seeing you in pain, Tony. After all you’ve been through that’s the last thing you deserve.”

Tony didn’t meet his eyes. His hand fell from Stephen’s and he crossed over to the balcony. Stephen trailed behind him, fireflies rippling in their wake. Tony let out a long sigh, leaning against the railing as he looked over the city lights. There was a certain quiet peace to watching a world so bright, so far away in perfect silence. They were removed from the civilization below, yet closer than ever. Stephen stayed a little ways from the edge, vision tunneling every time he stepped close to the railing. If he fell he doubted he’d have an iron angel to catch him this time. Instead, he chose to watch as Tony ran a hand through his hair, mask still clutched in his free hand. He was beautiful like this, calm and weightless; removed from the constant prying eyes of the world. It was the first time Stephen could definitely say he looked at peace. He had dropped the brittle, cocky guise that shrouded him in dazzling light, a guise that gave way to a soft, sleepy openness that whispered only quiet.

Stephen didn’t deserve him. Not at all. Not after everything he’d done. He took a shaky step forwards, swallowing his fear and nearing the railing. His trembling hands found a firm grasp on the steel railing, metal still cold despite the warmth around them. He opened his eyes and looked out over the city.

It was beautiful. There was no snow, not yet at least, but the very air held that thin, brittle composure of winter- like all it would take was one falling star for the very world to crack and shatter like ice. The kind of cold that sharpened the sky into that deep beautiful blue only found on the coldest of nights. The city lights cut through the ice and wind, like tiny sparks fighting against the darkness like the dead ends of a cigarette flicked out of a car window into the night, still sparking as they hit the pavement. If Stephen squinted, he swore he could see the tiny figures of people running between the streets and he could almost imagine the clouds evaporating on their lips. The top of the world looked so nice. How had he ever wanted it to burn?

“Steve is a bad person.”

Tony’s words cut through the silence. Stephen met his eyes, heart aching at the sadness within them. Tony let out a short sigh before continuing, looking down at the world below.

“I don’t think I’ve ever truly felt safe with him. I know I thought I did. I felt like he would protect me, but now all I can see is that I was afraid.” He paused, licking his lips. “What we had wasn’t healthy. It wasn’t a good relationship. He- he hurt me. Even before it was physical.” he let out a deep sigh. “I was always scared to disagree with him and even more scared to say no. Then, the few times I did, he didn’t take it seriously. He’d just scoff and roll his eyes. Well, then again, he’d do that whenever I so much as spoke. He treated me like a child, like I was useless outside of my workshop. But he didn’t even like me in there, either. So I either locked myself away with my work, fearing the lecture ahead of me or I’d be by his side, every part of me slowly stripped away one degrading comment at a time.”

He made a face, scrunching his nose up and rolling his eyes.

“‘Stop that Tony.’ ‘This isn’t a joke, Tony.’ ‘Shut up Tony, you’re embarrassing me! God why can’t you just be normal for one goddamn second?’” he mimicked. He sneered in disgust and dropped his head.

“I just wish he’d told me how much he hated me to my face. At least then I would have known that there was nothing I could do to make him happy. That would have been a million times easier. I mean, when we were dating, all I could ever focus on was pleasing him. Was making sure that I fit the image of his perfect boyfriend. But he already had his perfect boyfriend. He already had his soulmate, and it sure as hell wasn’t me. And that was something I could never live up to, no matter how hard I tried. I’d tear myself apart for him, try and rebuild again and again just so he’d smile and kiss me. And the harder I tried the harder it hurt to fall.” He let out a bitter laugh. “He never even told me he loved me, you know? But that’s because he was still in love with his winter soldier. And when Bucky came back- I didn’t stand a chance. But who was I to argue? Steve’s always held onto the past with an iron grip, even if it’s killed him. It was only a matter of time before things fell apart for good. I just didn’t think it would be as bad as it was. I just didn’t think he would go so far as to… as to…” His lip trembled and his hand ghosted across his chest, right over his arc reactor. There were tears in his eyes.

Every inch of Stephen hurt watching Tony. He wished he could erase the past, re-write history until the man he adored found only happiness in the past. Tony hadn’t deserved anything that had happened to him. He had fought and fought and fought, even as life gave him nothing but up-hill battles, even as the universe beat him within an inch of death. Now, after all these years, after his father and his mother and Afghanistan and Stane and the Avengers and Sokovia and Siberia and every goddamn time he put on his suit, all Stephen could see when he looked at Tony was how exhausted he was. How no matter how many times he won, he would still keep going. How he would keep fighting till the bitter end, how nothing short of death would let him rest.

Stephen reached out a gentle hand and cupped Tony’s face, swiping at a single tear dripping down his cheek. Tony sniffled. He raised his eyes to meet Stephen’s. He grinned, weak and wobbly, and brought his hand up to cup Stephen’s shaking one in his own. He smiled at Stephen like the sorcerer held the goddamn sky in his broken hands.

“You’re the first person who hasn’t done this to me, Stephen. You’re the first person who hasn’t tried to change me.”

Stephen’s eyes were wet. He squeezed Tony’s hand, faulty tendons as cold and brittle as glass.

“That’s because I know how you feel.”

Tony’s breath stuttered. Another tear fell from his eye and dripped down onto the lapel of his jacket. He bit his lip and it was clear that he was trying not to cry. Stephen smiled, his own eyes damp, and pulled Tony close, resting their foreheads together. Stephen wanted to stay in that moment forever, just standing there, framed by the night sky and warmth and the fireflies and the city below, both of them just so fucking happy to have found their missing piece.

“Don’t ever change yourself for anyone, Tony,” he whispered.

“I-I-” Tony’s words fell apart in lieu of a choked sob.

Stephen pulled Tony close to his chest, rocking them gently. He pressed a kiss to his temple, wishing his lips would leave a mark as golden as his magic. A reminder to Tony that he was loved. Tony shuddered in his arms.

“Shh. It’s okay, Tony. You can rest now.”

The only word Stephen could use to describe the moment was bittersweet. They understood each other. They could comfort each other, help each other grow just as the sun and the moon coaxed plants to strive for the sky. They may have been broken, but standing side by side, fingers intertwined, they were whole. Together they were finally complete and together they had limitless potential. They could have a future. But Stephen was so tired of looking forwards at what was to come. Right now all he wanted to do was hold Tony and soak up the other man’s warmth, content simply to be in his presence. There, in that moment, they were together and that was enough.

But Stephen was still so sad.

He watched Tony take a shaky breath. The genius leaned his head against Stephen’s chest, staring up at the brilliant night sky above them. His eyes caught the light and melted into twin pools of silver, stars scattering across his skin. There were still tears in his eyes and he looked fucking exhausted, but to Stephen, it only made him more beautiful. His tears and scars and insecurity- they were one of the things that Stephen loved the most about him. In the past his Tony had shown nothing besides anger and lust and control. But the Tony that stood before him was flawed, and that was beautiful. Perfection was cold and clinical and uncaring. Real love, real emotions may have been messy, but in comparison it was far superior. And Tony’s scars were proof that something, even if it was seemingly damaged, could still be beautiful, could still be good.

Stephen smiled and pressed a kiss to Tony’s forehead. He still wasn’t used to this, and there was a good chance he never would be. Things were just so different, after all. He didn’t think that he would ever truly forget what had happened to him, though. There would always be a disconnect, however slight, as his body stuttered to catch up with his mind. This Tony was so different from the one he had worshiped, even if he still had the same face, the same voice. But Tony was dead and gone and buried. He was never coming back, the only mark on this world trapped in Stephen’s memories. But he was standing right there, holding Stephen like a lifeline. He was dead. He was here. All of it hurt Stephen’s head. The Tony he had known so well was gone. Truly gone. He wouldn’t ever see him again; wouldn’t see him laugh, or shout, or murmur seductive promises in Stephen’s ears, or hurt him ever again. That was the sweet promise of death, after all. An ending. And while Stephen felt relief at that fact, he also felt the ever-growing, mounting wall of emptiness that had accompanied Tony’s demise. Like it or not, Stephen had loved him-  _ still  _ loved him- despite everything he had done. Even now, after all of Tony’s actions had been put to light, feelings, especially as deep as the devotion Stephen had felt, were not so easily dismissed. And losing him, well that was a horrible feeling he was going to tuck far away in the darkest corner of his mind.

And now, every time Tony smiled up at him, every time they even so much as touched, Stephen felt a burst of happiness laced and colored with the tiniest shades of mournful nostalgia. Try as he may to live in the present, he was still stuck in the past, chained down by memories far too thick and dark and viscous to wash away. Looking at his Tony, nestled safely in his arms, the both of them cradled by the night sky speckled with diamonds and frost like chemical equations, he felt happy and sad, his heart torn in two. He sighed, smiling at a scene layered thrice fold in his mind. Time was a fickle mistress on the best of days, and it had been years since Stephen had seen a second of good luck.

Now, as he focused his mind solely on the man before him, a soft warmth spread between them, thawing out Stephen’s chest until he could breath, sighs wet with dew and joy. A tear trickled down his cheek. He had done it again. He had fallen in love once more. Not for the same person, but two souls, far removed from each other, simply held in the same vessel. The same rose by two different names; the same petals and the same heart and the same thorns- simply different on the inside. He loved this Tony, more so than he had loved the one from his past. But it was too similar. Both times his love had been born out of desperation. First, the fear of being alone, the fear of his own mind, and the second time, the need to hold onto the past. He bit his lip, trying to fight back the tears of frustration threatening to spill down his cheeks. How had this happened again? How was he this unlucky? How were the most beautiful flowers always the most lethal; the most incredible people the most deadly? But now, as he saw past the pain and mania of his past, maybe this was different. Maybe it was good.

He buried his head in Tony’s hair. Absentmindedly he wondered if the ghost of his torturer, of his king, his lover, was watching over him. What he would say. Would he be supportive? Would he be angry? Would he be sad? Stephen wanted so badly to believe it was the first. He still didn’t think Tony was simply a bad person. He had, after all, been stripped down and beaten by the world until all he longed for was to destroy it. Maybe, now that they had succeeded, now that he was at rest, Tony could look down on him and smile at his happiness.

Or maybe Stephen was still making excuses for him.

And that was the reason he could never truly be with Tony again, no matter how much he longed to. Tony said he was broken, said he was a mess, but in truth, Stephen was far worse than him. While Tony was cracked, Stephen was shattered, heart and mind and soul far beyond repair. The future held nothing good for him, in this life or in the next, and if he stayed, all he would do was pull Tony down with him. But where else could he do? He was all alone in his dimension. He was trapped, a single man with a broken crown surrounded by nothing but the rubble and destruction that he had brought about. He couldn’t go back. But he couldn’t stay. So what could he do? He didn’t want to be alone. He couldn’t be. Not again. He wasn’t ready. He wasn’t strong enough. But would he ever be strong enough? He was so goddamn tired of this. He just wanted to rest. To be with the man he loved. But he didn’t deserve it and he never would. After everything he had done, he didn’t deserve to be happy.

“Thank you, Stephen.”

Tony’s words cut through his doubt like the moonshine through the cold night sky. His heart broke knowing he would have to give this up. But not now. Not tonight. He could be happy for just a little while longer.

Then they were both leaning forwards and this time there was no one there to stop their lips from meeting.

It was goddamn perfect. It was warm and bright and clear. It felt like summer, like freedom, like  _ peace _ . Like hot nights spent lying on your back, looking up at the endless sky above filled with so many stars you can see the Milky Way. Like those arid, dry days when the air above the roads seem to boil and the best kind of solace is found in bare feet on hot pavement, laughter echoing down an empty country road. Like running along the beach hand in hand with the person you loved, waves lapping at your ankles, the cold East Coast tides pulling you further and further out to sea, the temperature welcome after the deafening heat of the world around you. Like hiking through the forest together, crashing through dead leaves and trees and around the rocky aberrations of the earth, climbing higher and higher towards a summit that pierced the clouds. It was warm and happy and a million shades of freedom. It felt like summertime. Lonely, yet lonely  _ together _ .

The kiss was absent of the angry, painful sparks it had held in the past. Instead, it wrapped around Stephen like a safety blanket, warm and familiar. Their love wasn’t gone, just different. But where his old love had spoken only of a painful present, this kiss promised a warm future. Maybe Stephen wouldn’t have to leave. Maybe they could make this work. Maybe they’d face the world hand in hand, destiny abandoned in favor of companionship. Stephen could learn to love himself again, aided by a friend and soulmate and a face of times past and Tony could learn that he deserved to be happy. Then maybe, one day, they’d have a few small humans running around with them, calling them dad. Stephen smiled softly, insides growing warm. The kiss wasn’t fiery passion, but a promise.

They broke apart and Stephen leaned his forehead against Tony’s, curiosity flickering like a kind flame in his amber eyes. The party still raged on like a war behind them, but there, cradled by the stars and the fireflies and the endless warmth of the night sky, they were safe.

Tony looked down, unable to meet Stephen’s eyes. Stephen laced their fingers together. Broken and bruised hands intertwined with whole ones.

“You said before that you understood.” Tony sounded almost breathless. He met Stephen’s gaze, concern flickering in the amber depths of his candlelight eyes. “What happened to you? Did someone hurt you?”

The pain in his voice only made Stephen smile sadly. Stephen closed his eyes, bringing one of Tony’s hands to his face. He peppered gentle kisses across the genius’s knuckles, praying that the simple gesture could portray more than any feeble human words could ever. They could never happen, not in this universe or in his old one or any other for that matter, yet perhaps, just for this second, just for this moment, Stephen could forget about all the impossible things the world held and fall in love once more. Give his heart away one last time, even if it was to an impossible future. He wanted to forget about the past and live in this shining, golden moment for eternity. Removed from the timeline, it was almost happy.

“Nothing I’d like to ruin tonight with by remembering.”

“Well I’ll be here whenever you feel ready to talk about it.”

Stephen smiled.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He paused, the music of the party seeping out into the night sky around them. “Do you want to go back inside?”

Tony shook his head. “No. Not yet. I have everything I want right here.”

“So does that mean you want me to stay?”

“Always.”

Stephen laughed and touched their foreheads together once more. Somehow, it was more intimate than their kiss.

  
  


They didn’t sleep together, but Stephen still found himself in Tony’s bed at the end of the night, dress clothes lying in a crumpled, abandoned heaps on the floor. Tony’s warm arms fell over Stephen’s abdomen, fingers tracing gentle patterns across the doctor’s pale, unscarred skin. For the first time since he’d been in this reality, Stephen was happy he didn’t have his scars. Happy he wasn’t as marked and broken on the outside as he was on the inside. Stephen’s legs were tangled with Tony’s. Dressed in nothing but boxers and loose T-shirts, they were far closer than they’d ever been, nothing but thin cotton and bone separating their faint, weak, still beating hearts. They were quiet, but for the first time in what seemed like forever, Stephen felt warm. Even the tips of his broken fingers, the coldest part of his freezing form, were 

The room was dark, the air thick and quiet and so, so fragile. Moonlight trickled in through the gap in the curtains, lazy and silver and sad. Tony’s head rested beside Stephen’s, so close Stephen could almost feel Tony’s breath on his lips. His chest barely rose and fell. Stephen watched the man beside him, smiling weakly. God he loved this man. His heart stumbled. The moonlight shifting across his face was beyond beautiful. A tear trickled from Stephen’s silver eyes, sad and happy all at once. In this sweet moment, Tony looked nothing less than a god wreathed in silver and gold. And Stephen, Stephen had fallen in love with Death himself because he was worried that no one else would have him. Maybe, just maybe, he could find solace, find peace, if even for a moment, before their history ended. Stephen let out a soft sigh and ran a gentle hand through Tony’s hair. The genius cracked his eyes open, chocolate shining amber in the silver light of the stars.

“You’re beautiful.” The words fell from Stephen’s lips in the same way petals fall from a dying flower.

“Maybe in your eyes.”

Stephen smiled and his hand found its way to Tony’s cheek. What could be said of his heart? How had he fallen so hard? How was he so vulnerable to those beautiful amber eyes? That picture perfect smile that broke his heart every goddamn time?

He leaned close and pressed a kiss to Tony’s temple before leaning their foreheads together. Two beautiful minds, intertwined and finally, after years of searching, whole. All Stephen needed to do was pretend that everything was okay. That he hadn’t torn apart reality just to find happiness. That they could live in this moment forever, safe and sound under the light of the stars. Safe in a bubble where the outside world couldn’t reach them. And maybe, just maybe, they could be happy. Maybe Stephen could be happy. He’d hurt so much. He’d  _ been  _ hurt so much. But just possibly this could be his ending. Maybe he could finally find peace. Maybe he could forget his past and make his home in this moment, curled up with his beautiful, wonderful, kind Tony in his arms, with nothing but a kiss on his cheek, the last remains of the angel of death that had haunted his past, as a reminder of his old life.

Tony let out a soft sigh, the gentle sound breaking through the silence of their trust.

“Can I ask you a question, Doc?”

“Anything.”

“Am I… Am I a good person?”

Stephen thought. The Tony of his past had been cold and cruel. He had hurt everyone around him and beyond. He had played with Stephen and tossed him aside like a broken toy the second he was done. He had craved nothing but destruction for no reason other than petty revenge on a world that had slighted him with the chance of bad luck. And he had, well, he had broken Stephen. He had broken him so much that he was scared he’d never be whole again no matter how hard he tried. And now, when Stephen thought about the Tony of his past, all he could do was shudder and cry. He had hurt so much.

Stephen watched Tony’s eyes, their shifting amber depths, dark and liquid in the molten moonlight of their bedroom.

This Tony was different. And not just for Stephen. For everyone. Stephen had seen the way he cared for the kids at the Stark expo, how concerned he had been when Donna got hurt. He had seen just how much he cared about Peter, just how much he watched after him, trying to be the father-figure the teen had never quite had. He had seen how, even when his kindness was completely unwarranted, how he had put up with Rodgers, being the bigger man even when he had every right to go ballistic. Tony put up with so much, yet instead of lashing out with unquenchable rage, he always let it go, improving rather than destroying. He held on even as the universe pushed him down again and again. He was undeniably good.

Tony was a good person.

But was Stephen?

Stephen bit his lip, blinking hard. He knew the answer, and no matter how much the truth hurt, it wasn’t going to change. He wasn’t a good person. Sure his actions may have been dead and gone and past, but they had still happened and he couldn’t see any other world where he had made different choices. He had done awful things. Sure that didn’t mean he had deserved all the horrible shit that had happened to him, but he had still done awful things. He had tortured, he had burned, he had killed; all without a hint of remorse. He had destroyed everything that so much as hinted at hindering his future with Tony. Hell, even now, even here in this new world, he couldn’t help but torture poor, innocent Adam after the man had done nothing more than flirt with Tony. He had taken away a man from his family, from his son and daughter and husband forever because he was jealous. Adam hadn’t deserved that. Donna hadn’t deserved that. And now she and her brother were going to grow up without a father; now Adam’s husband would forever have his last memories of the man he had once loved be an argument. Stephen didn’t have the right to pick and choose who lived and died. He didn’t get to play God. Sure he had been hurt, but all the pain he had gone through was no excuse for his actions.

God he was a horrible person. He had torn apart everything good and kind and sweet in the world and for what, Tony’s approval? He had to fight back the urge to laugh bitterly. He supposed that was the only difference between them. Bitterness was always a paralytic- love is a much more vicious motivator. Where Tony had been frozen and fueled by the heat of revenge, the slow-burning frost of adoration, of obsession, of  _ mania  _ had driven Stephen to do anything Tony desired, to level and raze the very world upon which they stood. In the end, Tony had only fantasized about the death of their world. It had been Stephen who had actually ended it. And when push came to shove, Stephen would have done anything for Tony to love him. He  _ had _ done anything for Tony to love him. He would have killed anyone, even himself, tearing apart bone and flesh and organs just so Tony would smile and kiss his bloody lips, murmuring gently as the light faded from Stephen’s desperate, drunken eyes.

A tear trickled down his sharp cheekbone. He wanted to curl up and cry. Truth was always far scarier than any phobia. Sure he had been hurt. Sure he had been beaten and bloodied and claimed and broken. But even outside of what had happened to him, he was a bad person. His past was no excuse for the blood on his hands. And now, face to face with the beautiful, kind angel in his arms, he realized that he didn’t deserve any of this. He didn’t deserve someone as good as Tony Stark. He didn’t deserve the peace he so craved. Not now. Not like this.

“Yes.” The word hung heavy in the air, Stephen’s voice trembling with every breath. “Yes you are a good person. The best one I know.”

“You really think so?”

“It’s the first time I’ve ever thought that about someone.” Stephen smiled, his trembling thumb brushing over Tony’s soft lips. “But then again, I think this is the first time I’ve ever felt this way about anyone.”

“Can I ask why?”

“Well, I guess I haven’t had a super great past. Especially with relationships. You were right, earlier. I, uh, I’ve been hurt. A lot. By someone I loved.”

“Oh.”

Tony’s eyes were cautious and sad, like he wanted to comfort Stephen but didn’t quite know how.

“We were so happy in the beginning. Everything was like a fairytale. It was like we were each others missing pieces. Two halves of a whole soul. I’d been going through a pretty rough spot before I met him, and, well, I guess he was the first thing in a long time that had made me happy. And it was easy to fall for that. It was nice at first; he cared for me, helped me, healed me, but, well, after a while things went downhill. He wasn’t happy and he took that out on me. But despite everything that happened, things were good in the beginning, and I guess I kind of still thought that they were good at the end, even after he died. But he- he hurt me, Tony. And I don’t think that’ll ever be something I can get over.”

Stephen smiled sadly and brushed a few stray locks of hair from Tony’s forehead.

“But now, looking back on everything, I think I finally realize that what we had wasn’t good. Ton-” Stephen froze. He licked his lips carefully, the light flickering like captive fireflies in his silver eyes. “Tommy hurt me. A lot. I wasn’t ever happy when I was with him, but at least I wasn’t alone, and that was enough for me to put up with hell. He hit me. A lot. And he did- he did other things to me too, things that I didn’t really like. But they made him smile, they made him so happy that I was willing to hurt and bleed and cry so long as he was content. He kept hurting me again and again and again, even after he knew he didn’t love me anymore. But I still loved him. I still needed him.” He still did need him, as pitiful as that was. “And, I guess, after a while, he broke me. The only time I was ever happy was when he was. He forced me down and made me change just to fit the perfect image of his submissive, masochistic, lover.” Stephen let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “If history could speak- well, I used to think that life hated me, but then I stopped caring because I realized death loved me. And I guess I was so desperate that in that moment that that was enough.”

There was a beat of silence. Tony’s eyes shone like twin pools of sunlight, warm and comforting in the cold moonshine. Tony looked down.

“I’m so sorry.”

Stephen smiled, tracing delicate circles across Tony’s cheeks, touch lighter than a butterflies wing, ministrations softer than flower petals.

“Don’t be. You’re the reason I’m still here today, beautiful. There’s nothing you can do about the past, and you’ve done all you can to help my future.” Stephen let out a long sigh. “I guess what I’m saying is that when someone leaves your life, those exits are never equal. Some are beautiful and poetic, and satisfying. Others are abrupt and unfair and hurt like hell. And of the two, I think that Tommy’s death was more of the second. But in truth, we had said goodbye, said goodbye in the first way, long before any physical barriers separated us.”

He let out a soft sigh, chest falling gently. He really couldn’t forget Tony, could he? Not after everything that had happened. Not after everything that they had been through. Be it the good or the bad or the ugly, every moment spent with the man who had owned him in every sense of the word still held a special place in his heart. Maybe not a happy place, but a place nonetheless. His heart squeezed painfully. Why was he sad? How could he be sad after everything that had happened? Sadness came hand in hand with the loss of a loved one. But that raised a new question. How could he still love the man who had hurt him so? Stephen clenched his jaw. Because he couldn’t quite let go of the past, even here, even now, as he lay in a perfect bubble of happiness side by side with the man he truly loved and who truly loved him. He had never tried for a better future, just accepted the one set before him. And even now, with infinite possibilities laid out before him, he was short sighted, blinded by his inflicted inability to find his own happiness. But then again, maybe he didn’t deserve it.

Beside him, Tony shifted. He curled closer to Stephen, hands finding their place, warm against the icy planes of Stephen’s chest. He leaned his head on Stephen’s shoulder. Stephen relaxed and slowly curved back to reflect Tony’s position. He still felt happy, curled up and cuddled close to the man he loved.

He didn’t want to think it, didn’t want to risk having hope, but just maybe everything could be okay, if only for this moment. Even as hell came knocking at his door tomorrow, he could still find solace one last time, held close and enshrined in the warmth of the man he loved most in this world.

Another tear trickled down his cheek, this time born of happiness instead of sorrow. His throat was tight. He pressed a kiss to Tony’s temple, bittersweet adoration guiding his actions. And for just one second, all the sadness and pain in his heart was chased away by the warmth of Tony’s breath and the taste of gold in the air. Stephen held Tony close, scared the moment would end before he could properly savor it. He had been too shy to say it in the past, but now, cuddled close to the man he loved, he finally found the trust he needed.

“I hope you’ll stay with me,” he whispered. “Even after everything I’ve told you; even after everything that’s happened to me.”

“Of course.” Tony smiled, hands cold against Stephen’s chest. “I believe it was you who once said that the past doesn’t define us, only what we’ve been through.” He paused, cheeks reddening almost imperceptibly. “And I think that Tommy was wrong. I like you just the way you are.”

Stephen smiled, squeezing Tony’s hand gently in his own. The sentiment would have been sweet if it had not been linked with such unfathomable sadness.

Tony liked him just the way he was.

Broken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy holidays!


	10. Counting my Cards Down to One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Day! This chapter's a whole lot of fluff (for once)! Sorry this took so long, this is the busiest time of the year for me and I got hella sick. :( Anyways, happy reading!  
WARNING:  
Discussion of past abuse/non-consensual... things... (skip the makeout scene and skip from where Tony pulls Stephen out of the meeting room to the end of that scene)  
Depressed/borderline suicidal thoughts (skip the scene where he's in the waiting room)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: *gets home at twelve thirty at night and sits down to work on Back in Black*
> 
> Me: Hmm. I wonder what this story needs.
> 
> Some deep, primal force nesting inside my mind: K̴͇͙̘̭̫̣͓ͩ͌̈́̓͊ͣ̍̕A̵̦͖̳̪̰̝̓̇̔̃̚̚r͓͔̬͙͍͉̞̮̱̥̥̔̾͊̃ͬ̎̍ͥ̊ͥ͐͘A̺̪̰͔̙͈͖͉̺̖̻͓ͣ̾͑̉̍̊͋͐̓͐ͩͪoK̼̦̰̳͖̬̙͙̳̩͖͉̓̀̓̿ͬͭͩ̅̂̈́̈ͬ͒ͅẸ̝̼͈͓̫̖̖̞̞̠̰͛̈́̂ͪ̄ͯ̈́͗ͪ͗̂̑ ̵̢͐̿̒ͤͪ̒͌m̴̢̲͙̫̳̘͙͚͙͎͖̞̝̮̏̔̓̔ͨ̋͊̿̿ͧ̊ͫ̾͢A̸ͪ̅k͗ẹ͇̟͕͖͢ ̤̦̹̩̯̼̱̗͊ͦͬͣ̔̆̔͐ṯ͍̤̬̯̦̜̤͈̭̄̀͛̋͑́͊̏̉̃͠H̼͙̺̩̹͖̰͎̲͓̰̜̖̘ͅe̙͍͙͓̫̝̝̠m͗̓͒ͤ̑̈̒̎ ̨̡̂̀̅ͭͤ̀ͪ͋̕S̡̕Ī̜̻̘̻̘͔̻̠̭̺̻͙̟͉͑̈́ͤ̽̇̔̋͑͐͑̒ͪ̿͡N̶̞̪̝̖͕̻͕̖̓̎͐̓ͭ̋ͨͮ͟G͎͍̫̺̠̓̽ͬͧͪ
> 
> Title is from 'John my Beloved' by Sufjan Stevens.

There’s an inherent clumsiness that comes with a new relationship, and Stephen and Tony were no different. Oftentimes, that awkwardness comes not with the act of entering the relationship itself, but rather the action of two new people finding a balance together, because even in those flirtatious, nebulous moments before, there’s still a lack of a definite label, and things are always just a little different when they’re official. Simultaneously it’s both the most euphoric and the most terrifying part of the promised future, lying side by side, the unease of an utterly new connection washing over you like the gentle summer rains. It’s the tentative first steps of a shared dance, the process of finding a rhythm between two very wonderful, very different souls. At the best of times it is a delicate affair, albeit, one that is made especially difficult when the souls in question are both broken. In Tony and Stephen’s case perhaps not to the same extent, but cracked and fractured nonetheless. Needless to say, regaining their collective footing was a difficult process for the both of them.

Despite the difficulty of such an unrewarding task, at the best of times a relationship offers, not a second half, as stories like to say, but more of a complement to an already whole, fully realized person; someone to even out their edges, to highlight their strengths and fill in their weaknesses. It offered the beautiful promise of understanding, and in the end, isn’t that worth the struggle of learning to love?

At the worst of times, however, entering a new relationship is like missing the train. Uncontrollable, frustrating, and confusing, and it leaves the future wide open and unchartable. Sure, there may be ways to fix it, but for the most part, chances are that you’re just going to board the next train rather than walk along the tracks.

Tony and Stephen fell somewhere in between. You see, a person’s capacity to love increases with each person they meet and each moment they spend together, be it family or friend or enemy or even that one off muttered ‘thanks’ to a Starbucks barista. Despite that fact, it’s far too understandable, though, to forget that everyone has an impact, including yourself. It’s easy to think of life as linear, one straightforward flow with a beginning and a middle and an end. In reality, it’s much more complex than that, more of an uncoordinated tangle of knots in a web, like the lines traced haphazardly between the stars. Every moment you spend with someone impacts them, impacts their whole world, rippling out and inadvertently sending your actions to interact with hundreds of people you will never even meet like the wing beats of a million butterflies and their accordingly named affect. However, although it is easy to lose yourself in the endless sea of minute interactions, it’s the meaningful ones that truly nurture your spirit and cultivate the mind.

You see, the problem with Tony and Stephen, was that in the past and even now, even after how much they had grown, they had neglected themselves, lost to the allure of the benefit of others, which is exactly why their relationship was so important; why they were so perfect for each other. They had spent so much time helping those around them, giving and giving and giving regardless of whether the receiver deserved it or not, that they had forgotten just how important their own capacity for care was. And by the time they even caught the barest hint of that saddening truth, they had already found themselves with fewer people to practice with. But now, Stephen especially, had had one of the few things anyone has in this world. An understanding of time. So often do we focus on love at a young age; we immerse ourselves in romance books about teenagers and young adults, find solace in films like  _ Up _ , that may promise a happy marriage and a long life with the person you love, but that person was found long before society deemed you too old to find happiness. Stephen had thought he had a future. Tony thought he would never have one. Anyone else, after everything they had gone through, would have, consciously or not, resolved themselves to a life of solitude.

But Stephen and Tony, they never stopped giving love to those around them. And now, after everything they had been through, together and apart, they finally had time. Time enough to grow close, time enough to grow sentimental, time to learn how to care for each other, and, most importantly, how to allow themselves to be cared for. You see, at its barest essence, our joy and happiness is inexplicably connected to our capacity to love. Maybe not love in the traditional sense, love for a friend, or a sibling, or an object, or a hobby. And Tony and Stephen, they were the thin threads woven together from the very stars, across two universes, that promised nothing but peaceful dreams to come. You see, they were exactly what the other needed, exactly what would help their partner learn to be loved. There’s a term for a connection as perfect as theirs, albeit sullied in its application to inadequate products, but it’s base still holds true after all these years.

Soulmates.

Two broken souls. Two completely different shards of glass that fit together perfectly at the seams. Two people who could finally have their partner love them just as much as they adored their partner. Two minds so beautifully similar despite belonging to two different worlds, two different universes. Two halves of a promise, two stars in a constellation. Two people who could only fall deeply, and truly in love. Two people who could never have a happy ending.

Although, life never does have a happy ending. Or an ending at all. Just the middle part, which is so full of ups and downs that one cancels out the other and all you’re left with is that confusing medley we call life. But sometimes, those moments, that endless in between, is just as important as the bookends. And for them, it would be everything.

I have always believed the preludes are an underrated form of narration. They give a glimpse into the story from an outside view. They refresh and reiterate. They offer the chance for deep insight not found in between bits of dialogue. In this case, they offer an opportunity for me to convey, without all the bells and whistles, exactly how this will work. And although this prelude, and subsequently, story, is coming to a close, I urge you to remember that there is always calm before the storm.

\---

“You can do anything you want to me,” Stephen promised. His breath hitched, apprehension tight in his chest. “I’ll be fine. Just go ahead.”

“I-I don’t know. Are you sure? It might hurt.”

“I’ve been through worse. You can do anything you want to me, my darling.”

Tony balked a little at that, hands falling from Stephen’s chest. He refused to meet Stephen’s eyes.

“I still don’t think-”

“Do it,” Stephen breathed. “All this waiting is doing nothing for my nerves.”

Stephen smiled at Tony, eyes sparkling like cut diamonds.

“I-”

“Don’t worry about it darling. I can take it.”

“If you’re sure.” Tony paused, cheeks coloring a delicate pink. “I don’t think I could live with myself if I knew I hurt you.”

“I’ll be fine, Tony. I trust you.”  
The door to the workshop burst open and Rhodey and Pepper came storming in.

“Okay what the actual  _ fuck  _ are you two kinky bastards doing in here?!” Rhodey cried, one hand covering his eyes.

Stephen and Tony looked up, startled by the sudden intrusion. Stephen was sitting at a table, his hand connected to a strange brace, part of which wove up his arm and connected to a series of electrodes around the back of his neck. Tony was sitting close to him, an array of tiny tools scattered across the table, a miniature battery system similar to the arc reactor clutched in his hand.

“What are you talking about? We’re working on a project,” Stephen said. He smirked at the sight of Rhodey’s beet red face.

“Yeah. I was just helping Stephen out. I’m trying to make a brace to stabilize his hands and we were going to test it for the first time,” Tony explained.

Rhodey raised his eyebrows and Pepper let out a long sigh, rubbing her temples with what can be best described as endearing irritation. Tony smirked up at them and Stephen smiled innocently.

“Why? What on Earth did you think we were doing?” Stephen said, voice sing-song. He loved the glare Rhodey sent him.

“Nothing. We thought- nothing,” Rhodey sighed.

“Turkey and avocado? Really?” Tony teased, poking at Stephen’s sandwich. Stephen swiped the sandwich away from his prying hands, shooting Tony a wounded look.

“It’s good!” He took a big bite before gesturing over at Tony’s cheeseburger. “You’re just basic.”

“Uh, no. What I think you meant to say was classic.”

“Sure. About as classic as dying in two years from a heart attack,” Stephen shot back.

Stephen took another bite of his sandwich and something in Tony’s eyes shifted.

“Hey, doc, you’ve got something on your face.”

He reached across the table and swiped a thumb across the corner of Stephen’s mouth. Stephen felt his entire body still. He relished the feeling of Tony’s thumb catching on his lip. His skin tingled wherever Tony’s thumb touched. It felt electric. He liked it. Tony brought his thumb back, a chunk of avocado smeared across the pad of his finger. Then, while maintaining unwavering eye-contact, he lifted his thumb to his mouth and sucked off the offending food. Stephen didn’t think he’d ever felt weaker.

Then Tony gagged and the moment was broken.

“Oh  _ God  _ that shit’s terrible,” he gasped.

“Hey! Avocado’s great!” Stephen said, trying desperately not to laugh. His entire chest felt tight and tingly and warm. He kind of liked it.

They finished eating, paid, and left. Tony pulled on a hat and a pair of glasses as they exited onto the street. New York was as busy as ever, but finally, after the long months of bitter wind and dirty snow and insufferable cold, the skies were warming, the trees beginning to sprout leaves, and the winds soft and inviting. Stephen took a deep breath. The air was still cold and crisp, but sixty degrees felt like a summers day when compared to the freezing city of hell that was a northern winter.

Tony’s gloved hand found his and together, they strolled down the street, looking just like any other couple in New York City. No magic, no nanites, no horrible scars so pressing they absorbed and defined every part of their being. No fighting for good or evil or dominance, just them. Strolling through a park hand in hand, chatting about nothing more than the trivial and the mundane.

They came out to the public around two months after they started dating, and per the Tony Stark brand, it was nothing short of ridiculous. Even Stephen, who he himself had to admit was a bit of a drama queen, was a little taken aback by just how nonsensical it was. But the second he heard the plan he knew that’s what they had to do. It ended with the Avengers, several dozen news reporters, and all-night free drinks, all together in a gay karaoke bar in Greenwich Village. Needless to say, Stephen loved it.

He could Tony was nervous. He spent the first part of the night walking around, socializing with reporters and heroes alike, hyping up the crowd for the big ‘surprise event’ that would take place halfway through the evening. He put on a brave front, smile wide and cocky as he spoke, but Stephen could see the way his foot tapped incessantly, how his fingers fidgeted just a little more than usual. Eventually, Stephen couldn’t take it anymore. He pulled Tony aside, back into the corner near the bathrooms by his wrist.

“Oh Doctor! So forward!” Tony said, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Are you okay?” The smile immediately dropped.

“Of course. I’m just a little nervous, that’s all,” Tony said. His tone was heavier than the rocks at the bottom of the ocean.

“Are you sure? We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” Stephen promised. “I want you to be comfortable. You’ve spent far too much time in pain, darling. I never want to cause you more. So if you’re just doing this for me-”

“But I’m not,” Tony insisted. “This is something I should have done years ago. I was just afraid. Ashamed. But this-” He gestured between them. “This isn’t something to be ashamed about. This is beautiful. And I have to accept that. I have to accept that no matter what I do, no matter how good or how straight or how gay I am people will always find something to hate about me. And I have to learn to not give a shit about what they think and just focus on what makes me happy. And what makes me happy is you.”

“I-” Stephen felt all the words in his mind fall away like raindrops on a windshield. “I make you happy?”

Tony snickered. He took Stephen’s hands in his, squeezing just gently enough for it not to hurt.

“Yeah, dumbass. You make me happy. And you’re the first thing that’s done that in a long time.”

Stephen’s face turned bright red. He made Tony happy.  _ He  _ made Tony happy. Not pain, not suffering, just him. He couldn’t help the smile that rose to his face.

“I- I don’t know what to say,” he stammered.

“How about ‘you make me happy too now let’s go kick ass?’” Tony offered.

Stephen smiled.

“Yeah. That.”

Tony let their hands, still intertwined fall down beside them and they walked back into the club and up onto the stage. Tony leaned forwards and tapped the microphone.

“Is this thing on?” The crowd fell silent and Tony grinned. “Great. Now you are probably wondering why I called you here today, and I have a big announcement, something that I’ve been keeping secret for a long time.” He picked up the microphone, pacing back and forth across the stage like a goddamn king. “All my life, there have been parts of myself that I’ve hidden away. Either they felt too personal, or too scary, or just unacceptable. And that’s led to a shitload of problems. Anxiety, depression, all that fun stuff. But now I realize that to some extent, I’m a role model. I mean I was walking down the street the other day and I saw someone fucking graffiting the Iron Man suit on a wall! First off, I mean, of all the Avengers, why me? I mean, I get choosing me over Captain America or Hawkeye, but come on! You have Black Widow over here and you choose  _ me _ ?! But then I realized, that even if I don’t want it, I’m a public figure. And people,  _ kids _ , can look up to me. And so I think it’s time I finally do something worthy of being a role model, something that’s finally  _ worth  _ something. And I guess that comes with revealing my biggest secret. Something I’ve hidden away for years and years, from my family, from the public- from  _ myself _ . And that is…”

The entire crowd was silent, all eyes trained on Tony like the star he was. Tony took a deep breath, and Stephen could see the way his free hand fidgeted with the hem of his shirt.

“I am Iron Man.” A rumble passed through the crowd and Tony laughed. Stephen had to hold back a snort. “Ha, I’m just kidding. I’m bisexual.”

The crowd erupted into chaos. Cameras flashed and the noise level rose at least ten decibels.

“Alright! Alright, calm down,” Tony laughed. “Yes, I know it’s shocking, but I’m bisexual, and this tall handsome wizard is my boyfriend.” He gestured for Stephen to come forwards and he did, waving at the crowd. “Doctor Stephen Strange, neurosurgeon and Sorcerer Supreme, and currently, my beautiful boyfriend.”

Stephen leaned down and kissed Tony’s cheek, and another wave of anarchy washed over the crowd.

“Wow,” Stephen murmured. “Quite the reaction you’ve instated, dear.”

“You know me,” Tony whispered back. “Ever the influencer.”

He turned back to the crowd, gesturing for them to calm down.

“Alright, alright. Settle down. I’ll answer three questions before Stephen and I wrap up this presentation with a little something special. Okay?” Almost immediately a slew of hands shot up from the crowd. Tony pointed at one. “You there. In the hideous red tie. What’s your question?”

The man stood, a notebook clutched in hand.

“Daniel Manuel, New York Times. How will your sexuality influence your control of Stark Industries and the Avengers?”

Tony looked at the man like he was a fucking rock.

“Not at all. I’m not even sure how that would fucking work. Next question.”

“Mr. Stark- does this mean that you’re gay now?”

“No dumbass, I just said I was bisexual. Are you a goddamn idiot? Okay last question.”

“Do you have anything to say to the people of New York?”

“Be true to yourself. Date a guy. Date a gal. Date a non-binary pal. Do whatever the fuck makes you happy, so long as it doesn’t hurt anyone, especially yourself.”

Stephen grabbed the mic from Tony’s hands and leaned in.

“Be gay, do crime!” A laugh rippled through the crowd and he leaned in once more. “Just a quick nondisclosure, I’m both an Avenger, a Master of the Mystic Arts, and a doctor and I would just like to clarify that that was a joke and I do not condone the doing of crimes unless it’s warranted by the unjust extremist capitalistic society we live in.” As an afterthought he clarified, “Oh, and he’s bi, I’m gay, and we’re both dating. It’s sick.”

Another wave of laughter rippled through the crowd at his words and he handed the mic back to Tony.

“Alright! That was a word from my boyfriend, Doctor Stephen Strange! And now, for the grand finale, before we let you folks get back to enjoying your evening, Stephen and I have a little surprise! I mean, I suppose it was inevitable. This is a karaoke bar, afterall. Anyways, without further ado- Peter! Hit it!”

A familiar string of piano notes echoed through the bar and Stephen and Tony took the mic between them, swaying gently in time with the music. The lights around them went blue and white. Stephen and Tony leaned in close, starting to sing along with the words on the screen before them, however off-key they were.

“The snow glows white on the mountain tonight, not a footprint to be seen- it’s a kingdom of isolation, and it looks like I’m the queen. The wind is howling like this swirling storm inside. Couldn’t keep it in, Heaven knows I’ve tried…”

Off in the wings, Stephen can see Peter grinning ear to ear. He gave Stephen a big thumbs up and briefly Stephen flashed back to that night in the kitchen, back to when he gave Stephen his blessing, even if Stephen was the last person who deserved it.

“Don’t let them in, don’t let them see, be the good girl you always have to be! Conceal, don’t feel, don’t let them know… Well, now they know!”

He had spent so long forcing himself down, sitting back and watching as he died a little every day, as he endured years and years of abuse painted as affection, because that’s what the old Tony had done. Abuse him. But now, now that Tony was dead and gone and Stephen was finally,  _ finally  _ free.

“Let it go, let it go! Can’t hold it back anymore! Let it go, let it go! Turn away and slam the door. I don’t care what they’re going to say! Let the storm rage on… The cold never bothered me anyway.”

Even before he had met the Tony of his past, he had been alone. He had been morally grey. He had had nothing. He was nothing. The titles ‘doctor’ and ‘neurosurgeon’ and ‘Sorcerer Supreme’ were empty, pointless in a life devoid of color. He thought the old Tony had been a fix for that, but in truth, all he had done was colour an addiction to adoration. But now- now he finally he had something to live for. He had someone he loved, he had a home, he had a future beyond his endless quest for the destruction of reality itself.

“It’s funny how some distance makes everything seem small. And the fears that once controlled me can’t get to me at all!”

All this time he had been shrouded by the past, afraid it would follow him wherever he went, like a sticky, viscous reminder of all the horror his life had held. But now- now he was finally free of history, now, where before he had only seen the past, all he could see was the future. And that future held him and Tony and Peter and the Avengers and a reality filled with nothing but happiness and movie nights and avocado sandwiches and  _ peace _ .

“It’s time to see what I can do! To test the limits and break through. No right, no wrong, no rules for me- I’m free!”

For the first time in a long time, standing there on that slightly sticky stage, before dozens of reporters and superheroes and friends, Stephen felt truly happy. Before, everything he had done had been underlined with a tinge of darkness, and endless reminder that he was only here to corrupt Tony, to mold him into the terrible, abusive asshole who had broken Stephen time and time again. But now, standing on that stage beside a man that could only make Stephen feel happiness, Stephen finally felt light. He finally felt good. He had a future now.  _ They  _ had a future. And it was full of endless fucking possibilities.

“Let it go, let it go! I am one with the wind and sky! Let it go, let it go; you’ll never see me cry! Here I stand, and here I’ll stay. Let the storm rage on…”

Beside him, Tony was positively beaming, jumping up and down as he sang. A bead of sweat dripped down his brow, but he just wiped it away and carried on, far too caught up in the music to care about his appearance. He was glowing. Stephen had never seen him happier. Stephen grabbed his hand, twirling him around. He pointed his other hand towards the ceiling and a shower of white and blue glitter rained down from above. This was perfect. They were perfect.

“My power flurries through the air into the ground. My soul is spiraling in frozen fractals all around! And one thought crystallizes like an icy blast-”

For the first time in a long time, Stephen let himself think about the future. What they could do together. They could get married. Take care of Peter together. Be the family they couldn’t be back then. They could fight side by side, saving the world day after day, together. And when it was all over, when the sun was setting and time grew long, they would still be there for each other, through the quiet and through the noise and everything in between. They could sit back and watch as the neon sunset of New York City faded into the dusty promise of a night sky and the world fell asleep until it was only them, cradled under the blanket of the stars. Two absolutely beautiful, absolutely broken souls that together, were whole.

“I’m never going back- the past is in the past!”

A million scenes flashed through Stephen’s mind. When he fell through a portal and into Tony’s arms, bloodied and bruised and broken and beautiful. The first time he flirted with Tony, two plates of pancakes before them. That night at the mountaintop, where they had read  _ Harry Potter _ and drank hot cocoa, cradled by nothing but the stars and the wind and each other. The movie night. Steve. Peter. How nice it had felt to have Tony curled up by his side, his son sitting on the floor, back against their legs. And that night after- in the kitchen… Then there was the way that Tony had looked at him as he helped remove glass from a child’s hand, as he clipped a watch fast around his wrist, dancing together; how he had held Tony as he cried in the hallway during the Gala. How they’d kissed for the first time that night, intertwined beneath the stars and the gentle glow of magic.

A million emotions rushed through him, each memory bringing out more and more until he felt everything. Infatuated, enticed, comforted, protective, content, scared, unsure, excited, numb,  _ elated _ . But mostly, right now, standing on stage beside the love of his life, singing a cheesy song from a  _ Disney  _ movie, all he could feel was happiness. Freedom. He felt indestructible. Fearless. And he fucking loved it.

“Let it go, let it go- and I’ll rise like the break of dawn! Let it go, let it go, that perfect girl is gone! Here I stand in the light of day! Let the storm rage on-”

He would take whatever the fuck the future threw at him. This had been what he had needed. He was finally free of his past. He was done kneeling and done submitting and done letting people hurt him, done letting them carve their ownership into his skin. He was his own person. He was inimitable, he was a goddamn original. This- here and now and in the future- this was something worth fighting for. He would gladly live the rest of his life in this moment, this golden haze where everything felt perfect.

“The cold never bothered me anyway.”

The song ended and they fell panting into each other’s arms. They laughed desperately, pure elation and adrenaline pumping through their veins. Stephen pulled Tony close and pressed a fervent kiss to his perfect lips, glitter raining down around them as the crowd cheered and clapped. Stephen pulled back, cupping Tony’s face in his hands.

“I’m so goddamn happy, Tony. you make me so happy it’s unbelievable. For the first time in a long time, I feel good. And it’s all because of you,” he blurted.

Tony opened his mouth to respond, eyes wide and bright, but Stephen cut him off with another kiss.

“For once in your life, just shut up. Don’t talk, don’t think, don’t do anything. Just know that you’re a goddamn miracle, Tony Stark.”

“I could say the same, Stephen Strange.”

Stephen smiled so widely his face hurt. He kissed Tony one more time before grabbing the microphone and facing the crowd, face red and hair disheveled and covered in glitter. He leaned in close to the mic, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“‘Let it Go,’ sung by Idina Menzel, Frozen Soundtrack, November 25, 2013. Love is love, bitches.”

He dropped the mic and the crowd went wild. Tony stared up at him in admiration and that was all that really mattered to Stephen.

The rest of the night passed in a bit of a blur. He and Tony headed to the bar, fending off reporters in a flurry of activity, then getting a little bit more drunk than they should have. They made out a bit, and sang a few more songs, and watched the others do the same. Some of Stephen’s favourites included: Peter and Shuri acapellaing the Carol of the Bells, all while standing on the stage, arms outstretched in a ‘T’ shape, (honestly the whole affair was a little intimidating) Bucky, Steve, and Thor (who was very far past drunk) getting up to sing the American Anthem, or, well, try to at least, seeing as Thor didn’t know any of the words and kept replacing them with ‘eagle’ and ‘gun’ and ‘freedom.’ Tony and Stephen sang another song together, this one being ‘Seven Rings’ by Ariana Grande, all the while doing everly outlandish dance moves to the beat. Stephen and Peter also sang a song together, this one while Stephen was quite far gone, and Peter had grabbed his arm and tugged him onstage to sing along to ‘NaNaNa’ by MCR, a real headbanger, that one. Overall, the rest of the evening was fucking great.

What was even better, however, was the next morning, when they were all sitting together in the kitchen, each with a throbbing hangover made up for with amazing memories (minus Peter for the hangover, that is), when Tony had opened up Twitter to proudly show Stephen a video of them singing together trending number one world-wide.

“Excuse me? Are you Iron Man?”

Tony and Stephen turned away from the park lake to find a small child with bright, shining eyes looking up at them with fathomless excitement. She couldn’t have been older than eight, with dark hair and light eyes. Stephen blinked hard. She reminded him of Donna, the girl from the convention. The girl whose father he slaughtered.

Tony smiled and crouched down, holding out a hand for her to shake.

“Yeah. What can I do for you, kiddo?”

The girl’s cheeks colored and she smiled widely.

“I just wanted to thank you for protecting our city,” she said, voice like bubbles in the summer air. “You’re so strong and brave and I was wondering if I could have a picture with you please?”

“Of course!”

A woman, presumably the girl’s mother, stepped forwards, phone in hand. Tony wrapped an arm around the girl’s shoulders and shot the camera a blinding smile. Stephen felt his pulse quicken. Of all the things Tony Stark could be good at, he never really expected it would be with kids. But he’d seen it before, back at the convention, with Donna, with Peter. He was nice, patient, kind. He had an honest interest in their happiness, and in the case of the convention, in their passion for knowledge. And with Peter, well, he was perfect.

The camera flashed and Tony stood, undoubtedly imparting some final sage wisdom upon the girl before they departed. She flashed him a big, toothy smile before running back to her mother. Tony turned back to him and they continued their walk.

“Sorry about that babe.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Stephen said with a chuckle. “I like seeing you with kids. It’s cute.”

Tony stopped and stared at him like he had grown a second head.

“What?”

“It’s cute. You’re like a dad. Who would have thought Tony Stark had such fatherly tendencies?”

“I do  _ not _ have fatherly tendencies. You better watch your mouth, wizard, or you’ll be sleeping on the couch tonight.”

“Whatever you say.” They walked on for a few seconds, before Stephen couldn’t help but adding, “I mean, what about Peter?” You can’t even deny it there. The kid’s half a second away from calling you ‘dad.’ I mean, you’re certainly a good one.”

“I- Peter’s different! And I am not a good dad!”

“Sure you are. You look after him, make sure he’s responsible, you’ve built  _ multiple  _ suits to keep him safe, you always make sure he’s done his homework and that he’s taking care of himself, you-”

“Okay, okay, I get it!” His face softened and his hand found Stephen’s. “I guess I just want to make sure he’s happy. Y’know, give him everything I never had when I was a kid.”

Stephen smiled. He leaned in and kissed Tony’s forehead.

“And you’re doing a damn good job of it. He’s really happy that you’re in his life, Tony. Never doubt that.”

“Y’know, Doc, I’m starting to think you’re paying more attention to me than the movie,” Tony whispered, eyes sparkling in the dim light of the compound. Stephen shot him a coy smirk in response.

“How could I not? You’re the most interesting thing here. You’re perfect,” Stephen whispered. He leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to Tony’s cheek, pulling the man closer to his side.

As dumb as it was, Tony really did look perfect right now. He was always beautiful, but there, in the dim light, hair messy and eyes open and unguarded, he was downright ethereal. He wasn’t wearing anything special. Just sweatpants and a shirt with a faded logo that was soft to the touch. His trademark glasses were missing, and Stephen found that he liked Tony just a little better this way, eyes soft and open and unguarded. The saying was that the eyes were the windows to the soul. Looking into the honeyed amber of Tony’s iris’s Stephen felt like he could see every emotion playing through Tony’s mind and for the first time, Stephen could see why the saying went like that. Stephen slipped his fingers into Tony’s and warmth spread from the touch like fireflies erupting from a field. In that moment, he knew everything would be alright.

At their shared words, he heard a few gags, a cough, and one wolf-whistle courtesy of Clint. They were gathered together once more for another movie night, considering the fact that the first one had gone reasonably well. The only factor that had changed was Tony and Stephen’s relationship. They had been in for a fair amount of congratulations when they had entered, as well as a  _ second  _ shovel talk from Rhodey. Stephen also swore he saw money exchanged between a few of the more suspect members, namely Clint slapping a stack into Natasha’s hand, muttering about ‘how was he to know the wizard would be gay’ to which Natasha responded ‘he’s a wizard wizards are all gay, haven’t you read  _ Harry Potter _ ?’ Now they were all snuggled up in front of the TV like last time, Stephen, Tony, and Peter on one couch, Steve and Bucky on the opposing one, Bruce tucked away in a chair, and the others scattered across the room. Stephen’s arm was around Tony’s shoulders and their legs were tangled together. A blanket and the cloak were draped across their laps, cradling a bucket of salted popcorn.

“Well, if you two lovesick idiots were paying attention at all, you’d have noticed the movie hasn’t even started,” Natasha said, smiling wryly as she gestured towards the screen. The pre-credits were still rolling.

“So I’d say it’s safe to conclude that Tony is  _ definitely  _ more interesting than two minutes of logos,” Stephen concluded.

Tony chuckled, but Stephen couldn’t miss that flash of annoyance in Steve’s eyes. He looked away, forcing himself not to rise from his seat and deck Steve like the goddamn peasant he was. He was happy where he was. Tony was in his arms. They were warm and content, and he wouldn’t trade that for anything, even serving it to Steve Rodgers.

The movie started and Stephen found himself hovering above the film, in a sense. Viewing it, but not quite absorbing it to its fullest. He had always been more of a show kind of person, preferring to bond with the characters and their motivations more so than the plot, and a TV show was always a much better outlet for that than a movie. But nonetheless, it was interesting.  _ Inception _ . Something with Leonardo DiCaprio and dreams. It was interesting.

The movie reached a peak, the characters entering a dream and bending the world around them to their whim. Walls bent and rotated, entire city blocks folding into each other at right angles until the city was folded up like a perfectly inverted cube. The entire affair looked oddly familiar…

“Hey, wait a sec!” he cried. “ _ I _ can do that! Yeah! In the mirror dimension!”

There were a few murmurs at that, a couple nods of approval, and then…

“No you can’t.”

Stephen wanted to roll his eyes. What was Steve’s problem? Why did he still exist?! Stephen pulled his sling ring from his belt and shot Steve a challenging glare.

“Really? Want to come with me and see? Who knows, maybe I’ll even do everyone a favour and accidentally leave you there,” he snapped.

Natasha sighed. “Ladies, ladies. You’re both beautiful. Sit down and watch the damn movie.”

“Huh? Oh sorry! I thought I’d fallen asleep and dreamed all this up,” Tony snickered. “Although I’d never  _ dream _ of missing one of our movie nights. You should take this as a  _ token _ of my approval.”

He was met with resounding groans. Peter let out a particularly offended cry and covered his face with his hands, sliding down the couch and onto the floor in shame.

“OMG! Mr. Stark no!” he cried.

“OMG! Mr. Stark yes!” Tony echoed.

“Really Tony? Slang? After that joke? No offense, but I think you’re a little old to be passing as one of the youths these days.”

“Oh don’t worry babe, I’ve got plenty more where that came from.” He sat up a little straighter, sending Stephen an absolutely killer look. “Why didn’t the banana go to the doctor? It wasn’t  _ peeling _ well!”

“Oh yeah? Well are you a parking ticket? Because you’ve got fine written all over you.”

“That’s not a pun! That’s a pickup line!” Tony scoffed, swatting his arm. “That’s not fair!”

“Well I’ve got plenty more where that came from,” Stephen purred, echoing Tony’s previous statement back at him. He leaned in close and batted his eyelashes, smiling flirtatiously. “If I were a cardio-thoracic surgeon, I’d give you my heart.”

Tony squared up, cheeks red and ready for a challenge.

“Well is your name Google? Cause you’ve got everything I’m looking for.” Stephen felt his heart skip a beat at that. It was just too corny.

“Nice try, Stark. Have you been to the doctors recently? Because as a doctor I am afraid I have to diagnose you with a severe deficiency of vitamin me.”

“Oh yeah, Strange? Well, kiss me if I’m wrong, but dinosaurs still exist, right?”

Stephen giggled, wrapping his arms around Tony’s neck. He started to lean in for a kiss.

“That’s just cheating! Now I  _ have  _ to-”

“Daaaad! Doctor Strange! Stop! Please! This is embarrassing!” Peter cried from the floor.

Tony and Stephen froze, twin grins appearing on their faces, Tony’s a whole lot more earnest than Stephen’s. On the floor, Peter’s eyes widened and he clapped his hands over his mouth.

“Peter, did you just call me-”

“No! Nope! Definitely did not,” Peter cried, cutting Tony off. Stephen turned to Tony with shining eyes.

“Tony darling, you didn’t tell me you had a child!” he cried, clutching his heart over dramatically. Tony met his gaze, eyes dead serious, although the smile playing on his lips betrayed his intentions.

“I’m sorry Stephen, he’s yours. You’re a dad too!” Tony cried, throwing himself into Stephen’s arms.

“I knocked you up?! But we were so careful!” he gasped.

“Can you guys stop it?”

Tony and Stephen broke apart, sitting up to stare over at Steve with two twin looks of annoyance.

“Seriously Rodgers?”

“Well I’m sorry, but I think you can save all this for another time,” Steve protested. “This is a bonding exercise.”

“Exactly. It’s a bonding exercise, not a drill routine, Captain,” Stephen said. “So chill. We’re just having fun.”

Steve bristled.

“No, what you’re doing is making everyone uncomfortable,” he snapped.

Stephen looked around. The majority of the others had been watching the movie, although now a few heads were beginning to turn now that Steve had gotten involved.

“I mean, they weren’t actually doing anything,” Scott added. “Kind of entertaining, really.”

“See? We weren’t bothering anyone. I think you’re just jealous, Steve,” Stephen said.

“I am  _ not  _ jealous!”

“Fine.”

Stephen pulled Tony back to his side and they turned back to watch the movie. For a second, Stephen entertained the thought of standing up and raining hell down on Steve, using magic to stick him in a loop of crossed portals, one right above the other so he would be stuck falling in plain view until he died. Or all the ways he could use magic to peel Steve’s flesh back from his face and drain the blood from his body. Or, ignoring magic completely, all the ways he could disembowel that goddamn preppy little assdick. How all he’d need was a knife to slowly cut Steve nerves out one by one, or just how lovely it would look as Stephen pressed his thumbs into Steve’s eye sockets, blood and bile and fluid gushing around his fingers and trickling down his cheeks as he writhed in agony. God he’d love to see the fear on that man’s face as he screamed in pain.

Tony shifted in his arms. Stephen looked down. Tony shot him a confused look and Stephen realized his hand was growing uncomfortably tight around Tony’s shoulder. Stephen let go, hissing quietly as the nerves in his hand stung. He took a few deep breaths, slowly calming back down. They had been having fun. He just wished Steve hadn’t had to ruin everything for them. Tony hummed gently and rested his head on Stephen’s shoulder. Stephen couldn’t help the smile that rose to his face. He turned and pressed a quick kiss to Tony’s temple. He laced their fingers together once more and pressed another kiss to their knuckles. A loud sigh cut through the sounds of the movie.

“See?! They’re doing it again!” Steve snapped.

“Oh for Christ’s sake, doing  _ what  _ exactly?!” Stephen cried. He swore to Dormammu, he was five seconds away from pulling out his sling ring and sending the captain to the middle of the Sahara Desert. See how well his patriotism and shield did for him then.

“Yeah Steve, what are they doing?” another voice cut in.

Stephen’s mouth snapped shut, a bit taken aback. It was the first time that night Bucky had spoken up, and the anger behind his words was pointed at Steve. At his boyfriend.

“What do you mean, Bucky?”

“Strange is right.” The look on Steve’s face at that was worth the argument. “You’re jealous. Why do you keep fixating on them?! I am literally  _ right here _ , bitch. I’m your boyfriend. I’m the one you should be focusing on, not fucking Tony and Strange. So stop being a little bitch and pay attention to what you’ve got right now, not holding onto what you once had,” Bucky snapped.

Steve looked like he had been slapped and God did Stephen wish he had a camera.

“I-I didn’t- I’m not-” Steve stammered. He let out a deep breath and sat back, taking up Bucky’s hand in his. “I’m sorry, Bucky. I didn’t mean to ignore you.”

“Great. Now apologize to them.”

Steve looked even more offended.

“I’m am  _ not _ -”

“Apologize.”

“Fine. Tony, Stephen, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have ruined your evening,” Steve forced out. Stephen shot him a sugar sweet and simpering smile.

“Thank you, Steve. We appreciate that greatly.”

They didn’t hear another word out of Steve for the rest of the night.

Stephen had long since decided that the feeling of Tony’s mouth on his was the best thing in this goddamn world. They were on the couch, some movie about a dude and a whole bunch of talking animals playing soundlessly in the background. Tony’s hands pulled at Stephen’s shirt, untucking it and slipping his hands underneath, fingers trailing fire across Stephen’s chest. They had been having another movie night- just them and Peter this time- when Peter had needed to leave early. Tony and Stephen had kept watching and Stephen wasn’t one to protest when the hand on his knee had crept up to his thigh.

Now they were a tangle of limbs, Stephen’s back pressed against the armrest of the couch in a way that was not entirely comfortable, but that was trivial when Tony Stark was lying across his front, one knee tucked deftly between Stephen’s legs in the best way imaginable. They were so close it was hard to tell where one mind ended and the other began. All Stephen could bring himself to care about was his tongue swirling in Tony’s mouth and Tony’s hands roaming across his body. He broke away and mouthed at Tony’s neck. He found a pulse point and sucked, moaning as Tony’s hand palmed the front of his pants. He nipped Tony’s neck and the genius straight-up  _ keened _ , and that sound was enough to send all the blood in Stephen’s body rushing down to his dick. Tony pulled away, gasping for breath, pupils blown wide. Stephen started to lean in once more, but Tony’s hands on his chest stopped him.

“Wait- Stephen- hang on a sec.”

“What is it?” Stephen asked, hands squeezing Tony’s hips.

“Well, uh, we haven’t done this before. We still have a lot to talk about.”

“Like what?”

“Well, should we decide on a safe word?”

There was a long pause. Then:

“What’s a safe word?”

Tony sat back and Stephen could  _ see _ the mixture of confusion and concern on his face.

“What’s a safe- Stephen, do you really not know what a safe word is?” Tony asked, eyes filled with something Stephen couldn’t quite comprehend.

“Uh… no?” he mumbled. He didn’t know why, but he felt a little ashamed. He could tell he had done something wrong, but he didn’t know exactly what. Tony stared at him, running a hand through his ruffled hair.

“A safe word is something that you say during sex if you want me to stop. Like if you don’t feel comfortable doing whatever we’re doing, whether it’s some awesome kinky shit or it’s too rough or even if it’s just vanilla, you say it and everything stops,” Tony explained.

“Why would you stop if  _ I _ felt uncomfortable?” Stephen hated the naivete in his voice. He could see Tony’s heart break as he looked at him, pity and adoration mixed deep in his swirling whisky amber eyes.

“Oh Stephen,” Tony breathed, running a gentle hand down Stephen’s chest. The gesture was more comforting than it was sexual. “Did- did Tommy…” he trailed off, but Stephen could easily finish the thought.

Honestly, Stephen didn’t think what had happened to him in the past was too bad. Sure it was horrible and toxic and terrible, but there were other people who had it worse. Hell, Steve had straight up tried to  _ kill  _ Tony. So sure they had done some stuff Stephen hadn’t been comfortable with, and sure Tony had kept going even when Stephen didn’t want to or kept going even as he blacked out multiple times, but he was sure others out there had it worse. Besides, they were in a relationship, so it didn’t really count, right? That’s what he had always said at least, but now, something in Tony’s eyes was telling him that wasn’t the case.

The Tony sitting before him didn’t seem to think so though. His eyes were heartbroken. He lunged forwards and wrapped Stephen up in a big hug, face pressed close to his neck as he whispered frantic apologies into Stephen’s skin.

“Tony…”

“Oh God I’m so sorry, Stephen. I’m so, so sorry. I wish none of this had ever happened to you; I wish I could turn back time and erase every single thing that’s hurt you,” he murmured.

“Tony, it’s okay. I’m fine.” Mostly. “It’s okay.” Kind of. “It was a long time ago.” Not really. “And besides, I trust you and I trust you wouldn’t do anything that would make me uncomfortable in the first place. Now tell me, what’s a safe word?”

“Well, a safe word is a word you and your partner decide, something that’s unique and won’t come up during your, ah, session. And if you feel uncomfortable, or like you don’t feel safe doing something, then you say that word and we both stop and figure out a way that we’re both happy, even if that means stopping completely. Another system for this is the colour system, where you ask someone for a colour at intervals or changes in pace, and they respond either green, yellow, or red, green meaning okay keep going, yellow meaning slow down, and red meaning stop,” Tony explained, running his hands through Stephen’s hair.

“Okay, uh, I have a bit of a dumb question,” Stephen muttered. “What if I say the safe word and you don’t want to stop?”

“I’ll stop.”

“But-”

“Stephen, if I said I felt uncomfortable doing something, then would you stop?”

“Of course.” Was that even a question?

Tony smiled, tucking a few stray locks of Stephen’s hair back behind his ear. The light of the TV screen splashed a myriad of colour dancing across his skin like a kaleidoscope.

“Then I’ll stop for you. Sex in a relationship should be about both people and the trust they hold for each other. That’s something I was… missing in my earlier years. And I trust you, Stephen. Do you trust me?”

“Of course I trust you Tony.”

Tony smiled, pulling Stephen in close for a kiss. His lips tasted like popcorn butter.

“Great. Now let’s finish this movie and go to bed. I’m exhausted,” Tony said, shoveling another handful of popcorn into his mouth. “And if you ever have any more questions about this stuff, please don’t be afraid to ask. I don’t know what exactly happened in the past, but I plan on making this relationship safe for you. I want to see you happy, Stephen. And you can’t be happy when you’re afraid.”

Stephen stared at the paper before him, slowly and surely losing his mind. This didn’t make any sense. He had thought he had known how it would work, and he had thought he had done it before. But nothing he was trying was working. He was just hitting dead ends again and again. He let out a long, irritated sigh, combing a hand through his hair in agitation. He tapped his pencil against the table, willing the numbers and letters before him to make sense. He had graduated top of his class in college. He had earned his MD and his PhD at the same time. He had been one of the best neurosurgeons in the Metro-General hospital and all of America. He was the master of the goddamn mystic arts for God’s sake! So why the everloving fuck was Peter’s math homework so hard?!

“So if it’s 14P17 then-”

“No no no, it’s not a permutation, it’s just a bunch of them together. No order, so it’d be 14 _ C _ 17,” Tony cut in.

“No, but it said in the problem that you have to pick the marbles with a numerical order-”

“Yes but the numbers correlate to the ones we’re picking, not the order. So it’s C,” Tony said, circling the cluster of the jumbled letters that compiled their current answer.

“Alright, so we have 14C17, but what does this number mean?!” he added, pointing to the beginning of the problem. Tony sat back in his chair, thoroughly stumped.

“Fuck,” he breathed.

“Uh, Mr. Dr. Strange? Mr. Stark? I can just ask my teacher for help tomorrow, you don’t need to-”

“No.” Both the adults barked at once. Stephen turned back to the paper.

“So maybe if we have 14C17 then that’s the number we divide by with the function. So like, 14C17/24,” he offered.

“No, that can’t be it. The dividend has to be in the same format, so it would be something like 14C17/14C24. But that’s not it because we don’t know the other part of the statistic thing. And then we still have to get this  _ thing _ into a percentage! It has a letter in it! How do you turn a letter into a percentage?!” Tony snapped. He slammed down his pencil and took a deep breath, massaging his temples. “This is ridiculous. I’m legally a genius, innovation is my living, and I have nine PhD’s.  _ Nine _ . I’ve even taken this class before. Hell, I took statistics in college! This should make sense! Why doesn’t it make sense?!”

“They obviously changed the math. I don’t remember any of this shit!” Stephen growled.

“Why would they change the math?! Math is Math!” Tony snapped.

Stephen looked over the problem again. The scrap paper he and Tony had been working on was covered in meaningless scribbles and scratched out answers. They were getting nowhere with this. It was pointless. Stephen turned to Peter with a long sigh, running a hand through his disheveled hair.

“I’m sorry, Peter. I don’t think we know how to do this. Now if you give me a second, I can portal to Karmartaj and get a few books on ancient mathematical practices of the different regions throughout the world and we can cross-examine them to-”

“No no no, it’s fine! Please don’t do that Dr. Strange. I’ll just talk to my teachers tomorrow,” Peter said.

“Are you sure kid? I can call up some statistical analysts I met at a conference in Scotland-” Tony added.

“No, it’s alright Mr. Stark! You really don’t have to do that! I have a study hall second period and I can talk to my teachers then,” Peter promised.

Stephen and Tony shared a look before turning back to Peter with twin sighs of defeat.

“Alright then,” Tony said. “Let us know if you have any homework with like, physics or biology or something.”

“Okay!”

With that, Peter trotted off towards his room in the compound, cursed homework in hand. Tony ran another hand through his disheveled hair and flopped back on the couch, staring up at the ceiling in exhaustion. Stephen sat back in his chair, tapping the end of his pencil against the dining room table.

“God,” Tony sighed. “When did we get so old?”

“I know.” Stephen stood and sat down beside Tony. He leaned his head against Tony’s shoulders, closing his eyes in defeat. A few seconds passed, then Stephen felt a hand in his. He opened his eyes, finding solace in Tony’s smiling eyes.

“Then let’s be old together.”

He chuckled at that. He squeezed Tony’s hand as gently as he could.

“I like the sound of that.”

Stephen was in a bit of a mood. It was that kind of mood where everything seemed just a bit too hard to try and he was feeling just a bit too lazy to try any harder. Right now all he really wanted to do was lounge around with Tony or take a nap. And in conversation, all he wanted to do was be difficult. Nothing really seemed to pull him out of the hazy cloud of disinterest plaguing him. Not Tony, who was sitting beside him, not his fingers tapping sparks across the top of the table, and certainly not Steve Rodgers pacing back and forth at the front of the room, droning on about something so utterly boring Stephen’s mind simply refused to comprehend it.

“And the statistics Bruce drew up state that-”

“Ohhh my God,” Stephen groaned. He leaned back in his chair, resting his head back against the wall behind him. Everyone stopped and stared at him. “When is this going to be over?”

Steve’s eyes narrowed.

“Excuse me, but this is important.”

“Really? Because all you’ve done is stand up there and present the numbers and playbacks from our last fights. We know what happened, Rodgers. We were there,” Stephen bitched. He knew he was being a dick, but he was too zoned out to really care beyond the pissed look growing on Steve’s face.

“Well yes, but it’s important that we analyze our fights and-”

“Analyze? All you’ve been doing is reading off numbers! Numbers aren’t helpful  _ Captain _ ,” he snapped, the word dripping sarcasm. “Practice is helpful. Discussion is helpful. Not lectures on statistics. God, are you this boring in bed? Does it take this long to get to the point during a blow job? Do you like reading off the measurements of both your dicks before you-”

He heard a few gasps, a smattering of snickering, and then…

“Jesus Stephen,” muttered Tony. He shot Stephen a worried look and Stephen tried to find humor in those eyes like crystallized honey. There was none. Stephen turned back to the front, rolling his eyes in annoyance.

“That’s enough! I am your Captain! You should respect me!”  
“I don’t respect bad people. And by bad I mean both bad values-wise and bad in bed. No offense Captain, but you do know there are other positions than just missionary, right?” Stephen smiled at the horrified expression adorning Steve’s face. It was obvious Mr. American Pie hadn’t been expecting to need to defend his sex life today.

“You watch your mouth, Strange!”

Stephen smirked.

“Oh I know something else I’d like  _ your  _ mouth to be doing,” he purred. Steve went bright red, whether from embarrassment or anger, Stephen couldn’t tell. Each was equally satisfying.

“ _ Excuse me?! _ And what would that be?”

“Shutting up.”

Stephen could practically feel the anger boiling in Steve’s eyes.

“Okay that is  _ it _ . Strange, you need to-”

Tony raised a hand, cutting Steve off.

“I’ve got it Rodgers. Stephen, may I speak with you outside for a minute?” Tony said.

Rodgers nodded. Tony stood and shot Stephen a glare. There was no warmth in those ice-filled eyes. Stephen let out a long sigh and stood, walking towards the door to the conference room, cloak billowing behind him. They walked down the hall a ways and found themselves in the kitchen of the compound. The second they were out of the room and out of earshot, Tony turned to Stephen with fire in his eyes. Stephen felt his stomach drop. Looks like he had found something to pull him out of his haze.

“What the fuck was that?!” Tony snapped, gesturing back at the conference room.

“I was just-”

“Uh bup bup. No. I don’t want to hear any excuses. What you said to Rodgers was rude and uncalled for. I don’t care if you don’t like him and I don’t care if he’s a dick. Right now he’s our leader and you need to respect him, whether you like it or not.”

“But I think-”

“No. I don’t care what you think. You cannot talk to Steve like that.”

Stephen’s face hardened.

“Oh so you’re defending  _ Steve _ now?” Stephen spat out the name like it was acid on his tongue.

“I was not- God! You always do this. It’s not about Steve, it’s about the fact that you fucking dissed him and his sex life in front of the entire team!” Tony said, voice holding just as much anger as Stephen’s.

“I always- I can’t believe you right now! And it’s not like you really care what the team thinks anyways! Why does it matter that I embarrassed Rodgers a little? He’ll be fine.”

“He’s your commanding officer! It’s not a matter of whether he’ll be fine or not, it’s a matter of respect,” Tony snapped.

“How can I respect that man?! How can you?! After everything he did?” Stephen was distantly aware just how loud they were getting.

“Steve has done a helluva lot more to me than he ever did to you, Stephen. So if I can shut up and listen to him 24/7, you should be able to sit still for one goddamn meeting instead of acting like a fucking baby,” Tony hissed. His eyes were burning holes in Stephen’s soul.

“I just don’t see how you can sit by and let him do whatever the hell he wants!” Stephen protested.

“Shut up.”

“I mean, especially after what happened between you two! You can’t just-”

“Shut up!” Tony yelled. “You don’t even know half of the shit I went through! So shut up and stop talking about stuff you don’t fucking understand! Okay? You have no right to be a complete dick if I am able to sit by and watch not because I  _ want  _ to, but because I signed a damn paper saying I  _ had  _ to. So stop being a complete and utter child about this and grow up!”

The last time Stephen had seen Tony yell he had been happy. He had been excited that Tony was tapping into his dark side. But now, it felt fear bubbling in his chest. It was like he had swallowed glass or razors or something sharp, and now it was sliding down his throat catching on skin and piercing through the cartilage of his esophagus, rivulets of blood clogging his throat and flooding his lungs. He couldn’t breath, he couldn’t swallow, and all he could see and feel and taste was red. It was suffocating and sharp and it was thick and hot and sticky in his chest. All he could feel was dread, regret, and shame. It welled up in his chest, threatening to overflow. His hands were shaking even more than normal. He didn’t want Tony to be mad at him anymore.

“Tony, I-”

“No! I don’t want to hear any more fucking protests from you!”

Stephen raised his hands, bringing them up to rest on Tony’s chest pleadingly.

“Well, I-”

“God, why can’t you listen for one fucking second?!” Tony snapped.

He tore Stephen’s hands from his chest and shoved him away. Stephen yelped in pain, crying out as his shattered nerves screamed with pain. He staggered away until his back hit the kitchen counter, cradling his broken hands to his chest. He could feel sobs building in his chest, offset to the tears flooding his eyes. Tony’s eyes widened and his hands clapped over his mouth.

“Oh my God I’m- I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to-”

Stephen let himself fall, ass hitting the ground hard. He scrambled to his knees, cradling his hands close to his chest which rose and fell rapidly. Tears fell to the ground as his thoughts spiraled darker and darker. This was it. This universe wasn’t any different from the last. Tony still liked to see him pliant; to see him broken. Stephen ground his teeth together, trying to force back the tears dripping from his eyes. Tony didn’t like it when he cried like this. If he didn’t shut up now Tony was going to make him. He could already feel the bruises blooming across his skin, could already feel his bones ache from dislocation, could already feel the thin, searing edge of a knife carving claims into his skin. He hugged himself close, bowing his head in submission as he looked up at his owner with big grey eyes that looked more like a shattered mirror than their usual stormy sea.

“Please I’m so sorry Tony I promise I didn’t mean it I’ll do anything you want just don’t-” He paused. Tony always hated it when he brought up the fact that he was hurting Stephen. “I promise I’ll be better, okay? I promise I promise I-”

“Stephen, I-” Tony looked horrified. Stephen felt like hitting himself.

“Oh God Oh God please don’t be mad!” Stephen cried. His eyes flashed around the room. There was nothing on the floor. He raised his hand and brought his palm down on his forehead, softening the blow moments before contact. God he was so weak. He couldn’t even hit himself properly. He let out a strangled whimper and twisted his fingers back and forth, squeezing his hands until his bones popped. Tears poured down his face and he cried out in pain, looking up through blurry eyes to see if Tony was enjoying his pain.

Tony looked terrified, frozen in place.

Stephen let out another pitiful sob and dropped his hands, resigning himself to whatever Tony wanted to do to him. He closed his eyes and hid his face.

“Stephen, hey, Stephen?” Tony’s voice was… strangely soft. “I promise I’m not going to hurt you, okay? I’m really sorry I yelled, but I promise I’m not him. I’m so sorry that I hurt you and I promise, with every fiber of my being that I’ll do everything in my power to never hurt you again, okay? I want you to be happy, Stephen. And I’m so sorry I hurt you.”

Stephen lowered his hands. Tony was crouching before him, big brown eyes shining and scared, not of him, but  _ for _ him. Clarity crashed down around Stephen’s shoulders like a tidal wave. Tony was dead. The man standing before him was new and kind. He trusted the man before him. His sobs slowed and shame colored his cheeks bright red. He buried his face in his hands once more.

“Oh God, Tony I’m so sorry you had to see that.”

Tony touched his shoulder tentatively and Stephen leaned into the touch, prompting Tony to wrap him up in his arms.

“Hey, it’s okay. I shouldn’t have yelled and I definitely shouldn’t have pushed you. I’m sorry I gave you, uh, flashbacks to your old relationship. The last thing I want for you is to go through that shit again, okay? I want you to be safe, babe.” Tony ran a gentle hand through Stephen’s hair, smoothing it away from his face. He looked Stephen up and down. There was nothing but concern guilding those beautiful doe eyes. Vaguely, Stephen thought about how Tony’s iris’s looked like two petrified circles of a tree trunk, with endless shifting lines of deep brown and shining amber and the barest hints of a warm red. “Are you okay? Do your hands hurt?”

Stephen nodded, unable to bring himself to speak. Tony let out a sound- both sympathetic and apologetic- and cradled them gently. He stood and got a few hot packs from the cupboard, heating them up and then pressing them to Stephen’s damaged hands. Stephen let out a quiet hiss. Tony dabbed a paper towel at his cheeks, trying to dry off the sticky remains of his tears.

“Alright. Are you feeling okay? Do you need anything else?”

Stephen shook his head, still staring at the wall. He let out a long breath and dropped his head onto Tony’s shoulder. They sat like that for a while, hot packs pressed to Stephen’s aching hands, Tony a comforting warmth at his side, and Tony’s hand rubbing slow circles on his back.

“Stay?” He hated how juvenile and desperate he sounded.

Tony smiled.

“Always.”

It was hot. The first really hot day of the year, really, and all of New York felt like a furnace. Despite the heat, Stephen was bound and determined to take Tony on a wonderful date. It took a while to figure out where to go; it had to be perfect after all. There were places he knew would be nice and cool, places he knew Tony would like. The wind-swept beaches of St. Andrews and the cool waterfalls of Washington State immediately came to mind. And there were so many wonderful memories to be made in London: Waterloo Station, the Thames, the V&A- that, paired with England’s mild temperatures would be fit for a delightful date. But Stephen had something more local in mind.

“Boston? Really?” Tony said, shielding his eyes from the sun as they stepped through a glowing portal onto a busy street. It was nearly as hot as New York City, but the breeze blowing off the ocean did make it slightly more bearable.

“You recognized it, I’m surprised.”

Tony rolled his eyes at his words.

“I do go places other than New York and California, believe it or not,” he said.

“Sure you do.” Stephen held out his hand. Tony took it and Stephen led them down the busy street towards an oddly shaped building swarmed with people. “Come. I have something in mind.”

They bought tickets and Tony let out a bit of a breathless laugh as they stepped inside.

“An aquarium? Really Stephen?” he chuckled.

“Hey! Don’t diss the fish! What did they ever do to you?” He snagged a pamphlet from a nearby stand and opened it up. “Now what do you want to see first? The seals, the turtles or the penguins?”

“Penguins,” Tony said almost immediately.

“See? This can be fun!” Stephen smiled. He swung their intertwined hands between them as they walked towards the central room.

The second they pushed their way to the front of the crowd to see the penguins Tony’s face lit up. Stephen watched as he gripped the railing, smiling down at all the little rockhopper penguins. He looked so beautiful when he was happy. Stephen leaned in close, wrapping an arm around Tony’s waist.

“Did you know that those penguins there are also called jackass penguins?” Stephen murmured. Tony snorted.

“No way, that’s a lie.”

“No I’m serious! They’re called that because their penguin call sounds like a donkey’s bray,” Stephen said. Tony chuckled.

“You say ‘penguin’ weirdly.”

“What?! No I don’t!”

“Yeah you do, you say it like ‘pangolin’ or ‘pangween’ or something,” Tony snickered. Stephen shot him a look of betrayal.

“I do  _ not  _ say that.”

Tony shot him a coy look.

“Go on then, say ‘penguin.’ Say it with me: ‘pen-gwin.’”

Stephen blushed and turned back to the exhibit, watching as one of the little critters slid down the rocks and into the water.

“You’re a menace, you know that, right? I hate you.”

Tony squeezed his hip, leaning up to plant a kiss on the corner of Stephen’s jaw.

“We both know that’s a lie.”

Stephen looked down and his heart melted. Tony looked so happy; so content. The smile on his face was calm and natural, and he looked like he was at peace. He looked perfect. Stephen didn’t deserve him at all. Stephen smiled, cupping Tony’s face with a trembling hand. He pressed a gentle, adoring kiss to Tony’s lips, gently dragging his bottom lip between his teeth before pulling away. He stared down at Tony with pure admiration.

“You’re right. How could I ever hate you?”

They spent ages roaming the halls of the aquarium, circling around a massive ocean tank filled to the brim with huge, beautiful fish of every shape and color. Even the dullest of them all, a large silver fish the size of a dinner plate, shimmered with every color of the rainbow when the light hit it right. The air smelled of salt and it was loud and crowded and very far from perfect but Stephen loved it. He could tell Tony was having a good time too. He kept pointing out fish to Stephen, finding new ones almost every other second. One of Stephen’s favourite exhibits had been the jellyfish room. The entire room was dark save the tanks which were lit by a cool purple UV light. The jellyfish practically glowed silver and neon in the dark, forms dancing through the water in a mesmerizing fashion. The second the few tourists left in the room had gone Stephen had pushed Tony against the wall and kissed him silly, jellyfish swirling around them like makeshift stars.

Now they were walking back to the exit, through a tunnel of glass surrounded by water and coral and dazzling schools of fish. Their interlocked hands swung between their forms. They were the only ones in the hallway, ambling down towards the gift shop as they watched stingrays and turtles and fish soar overhead. Stephen smiled as a crustacean of some sort poked its head out from the rocks, then darted back in the second it saw them. Beside him, Tony let out a long sigh.

Suddenly, Stephen was aware of just how content he was. He was with Tony and they were happy. They were  _ happy _ . It had been so long since Stephen could just let go, since he could just relax and feel safe with someone. For the first time in a long time he was spending his day with someone who wasn’t manipulating him. Who didn’t want anything from him. Who simply wanted to spend time with him because he just enjoyed Stephen’s presence. That was almost heartbreaking enough to make Stephen cry.

He stopped, turning to Tony with a smile on his face.

“You make me really happy, Tony. And you’re the first person who’s been able to do that in a while, y’know? And I guess what I’m saying is that I’m glad you’re here with me. You make me happy.”

The smile that rose to Tony’s face was enough for Stephen to want to scoop the man into his arms and twirl him around and kiss him until they both dissolved under the shimmering blue light of the water above them.

“Shit doc, you’re going to make me cry,” Tony choked out.

Stephen raised their joined hands to his lips, pressing a quick kiss to their intertwined fingers.

“Don’t cry. You still owe me something from the gift shop,” Stephen snickered. Tony chuckled.

Stephen’s hands found their way to Tony’s hips and Tony’s found their place on Stephen’s shoulders. Stephen felt like the weight of the world had been lifted from his back. He smiled and closed the distance between them, kissing Tony slow and sweet. It felt like they were floating, like the air around them was cradling them in billowing clouds of warmth and light. If kissing Tony in the past had been a raging inferno this was like walking in the warm sand of the beach, burying yourself in that soft heat that made your core clench and your fingers tingle. It was like watching the stars on a summer night, like walking barefoot along hot pavement, heat rising and cars passing as the sky stretched endless and blue above you, the painted air pastel in all its glory. It was perfect.

Stephen pulled away smiling. His heart felt like it was beating out of his chest. God what had Tony Stark done to unravel him like this? How could he fall apart this easily?

“Are you standing on your toes?” he whispered, trying to hide the amusement in his voice.

“Are you wearing platform shoes again?” Tony shot back.

Stephen rolled his eyes and pushed Tony away, hands trailing down his arm until their hands found each other once more. He pulled Tony forwards, resuming their walk down the hall.

“Yeah. What are you going to do about it, shortie?” he teased. Tony rolled his eyes, bumping gently into Stephen’s side.

“Whatever. Don’t I still owe you something from the gift shop? And after that let’s get ice cream,” Tony said, linking his arm with Stephen’s.

“That sounds amazing.”

“Of course it’ll be amazing. I’ll have you with me.”

In that moment, Stephen was happy.  _ They  _ were happy. And that was enough for him.

“You got the wine?”

“Who do you think I am? Of course. You got the magic?” Tony teased.

“Yeah. You ready?” Stephen said, a sparkle in his eyes.

He held out his hand and Tony took it, squeezing gently. The elevator dinged and they stepped off and onto the windy rooftop of Stark Tower. It was summer, but up this high the air had a terrible bite. Stephen flicked his fingers and runes snapped into place around them, casting a faint golden glow across the rooftop. Immediately, the temperature rose and the wind died down. Tony let out an excited puff of air, pulling out a blanket from his bag and tossing it over the ground. Stephen set down a few of the pillows he had been carrying. They sat and Tony continued unloading his bag, surrounding them with food and blankets. He set two wine glasses down before them and poured- rather generously too- a fine red wine the color of love and royalty.

The sun had set a few hours ago. It’s dying rays had colored all of Stark tower a brilliant gold and turned Tony’s skin into molten metal as Stephen knelt and blew him, Tony’s back against a wall of floor-to-ceiling glass windows high above a city filled with life. After that they’d had a lazy afternoon, alone together in the practically empty tower. Then there had been dinner on a balcony before a sky streaked with violet, a brilliant pink, and glowing gold. All of it had been perfect, but now, sitting together under the dark, endless ocean of the night sky, Stephen had never felt happier.

He took a sip of his wine and let out a deep, content sigh. He walked his fingers over to Tony’s hand, curling their digits together under the blankets as they stared up at the glittering stars above. Stephen had often heard them compared to diamonds, but to him they looked more like tiny fractures in the night sky, cracks in the infinite darkness leaking the same otherworldly magic as the moon. Whatever they were, they were beautiful.

There was something about space that Stephen had always found comforting. Something about all that infinity, all that emptiness surrounding their tiny speck of a planet. A vast, endless ocean spilling outwards from a single fixed point and colouring oblivion with vibrant shades of stardust and life. All this endless substance surrounded by nothing. It was calming, he supposed, that endless expansion outwards. After all, the minute the universe stopped it would just be another cage, another set of walls locking Stephen in. And the lack of knowledge for what lay beyond, that was the most comforting part of all. Although the act of finding solace in oblivion was rather morbid, Stephen couldn’t help the smile that rose to his face at the thought.

He let out a soft sigh, the taste of wine dancing on his cupid’s bow lips. The stars were the closest thing that he had had to infinity before his magic. The universe would always hold a special place in his heart. He leaned his head on Tony’s. Tony’s hair tickled his skin, drawing him away from the stars and back down to earth. He squeezed Tony’s hand, the tiny pinpricks of silver swimming in the sky perfectly reflected in the glassy grey-blue of his ocean eyes.

“Do you recognize any constellations?” Stephen’s whisper broke the quiet night air in the same way a petal’s descent interrupts the surface of a pond.

“Not really. They all just look like stars to me.”

“They’re a lot more than that. They’re stories. Each and every one of them is unique; alone and impossibly far away, but all present for us. I’ve always loved the stars. They remind me that there’s so much beauty out there that we’ll never see. They’re a reminder that there’s an endless sort of wonder to life, a reminder that the world can be beautiful if you just wait and see it in a different light.” His smile faded. “I mean, in truth, the stars we’re seeing have all been dead for millions of years. They’re ghosts of the past. They’re all lies. Just millions of dead lights hanging in the sky until they burn away for good. The stars are dead.” He paused, licking his lips as he stared up at the endless silk of the summer sky. “But so long as we can see them they’re real to us.”

“That’s… really sad,” Tony breathed.

Stephen chuckled at that.

“So? Beauty doesn’t have to be happy. Sometimes the most beautiful things are cold and cruel. Nature doesn’t detract from splendor. It just paints it in a different light.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, staring up at the endless void above them. It was overwhelming, like the sky was swallowing them whole. Like the ground was falling away and they were left drifting in an endless sea of blue ocean, the tiny drops of mercury painting their vision with light their only anchors to the spinning shards of reality below.

“Do you see those three stars that form a triangle? The ones beside the trapezoid? That’s Sagittarius,” he whispered, pointing up at the sky. Tony’s eyes followed his hand. “And those four stars that form a sort of ‘M’ shape, that’s Cassiopeia. Named after the girl Theseus rescued after her parents strapped her to a rock to appease a sea monster. When he rescued her the monster destroyed her home and then Theseus abandoned her on an island.”

“That’s horrible.”

“Well, not all stories have happy endings, but that doesn’t make them any less meaningful.”

Tony stared up at the sky, beautiful brown eyes drowning in starlight.

“How do you know so much about the stars?”

Stephen looked down at the ground, cheeks reddening.

“I, uh, used to draw star maps. Back in college. It was kind of a way to relieve stress, to take a step back from my studies and make something separate from neurons and chemicals,” he mumbled, voice barely louder than the warm breeze that ruffled their hair. Tony looked up at him with what could only be described as reverence.

“Why’d you stop?” he asked.

Stephen’s chest stilled. He hadn’t had any energy led over when he worked at the hospital and Tony had always hated them, calling them a waste of time. There had been no beauty in the night sky to the god made of fire and iron.

“I don’t know. It’s a waste of time,” he mumbled.

“Does it make you happy?”

Stephen was surprised by the tenderness in Tony’s voice.

“That really matters to you?”

Tony kissed the tip of his nose, a smile in his eyes.

“If it makes you happy it matters to me.”

There was a pause. They stayed like that, so close Stephen could feel Tony’s breath on his lips. So close that if he moved even a fraction of an inch their noses would touch and their lips would meet. Tony’s hand was on Stephen’s cheek and Stephen found himself drowning in the flecks of gold swimming in Tony’s eyes. If he had thought the night sky above was infinite that was nothing compared to the vast, endless depths of Tony’s iris’s. Starlight danced in their chocolate depths, setting the faint streaks of red ablaze with silver and starlight.

“You’re beautiful, you know. Resplendent. Cosmic,” Tony breathed. His reverent words set Stephen aback.

“Says you.” He took Tony’s hand. He brought their lips together, pressing a quiet, gentle kiss to those lips he so adored. “You’re incredible, Tony Stark. And I want to make you happy.”

There was another pause. Then:

“Will you make me a star chart?”

Stephen sat back, heart learning to beat once more.

“No.”

“Why not?”

He looked away, fiddling with the edge of the blanket.

“I’ve forgotten how and it’s twelve at night.”

“You haven’t forgotten. I know you haven’t, Mr. Eidetic Memory,” Tony teased.

Stephen avoided his eyes, cheeks growing hot with shame.

“Yes I have. They’re not important.”

“To you they are.”

There was a brief stretch of silence then Stephen let out a long sigh.

“Fine. I need a paper and pencil and something to write on.”

Tony dug around in his bag and Stephen watched. There was something burning in his stomach. He looked up at the sky, trying to lose himself in infinity. Normally the light of the stars was calming, but now it felt cold and cruel. He worried his lip between his teeth. Why was he nervous? He had done this before. Sure he hadn’t done it in a while, but did that really matter? Who was going to judge him? Well, that was easy. Tony would. If it was for Tony he wanted it to be perfect. Tony handed him a paper and a pen and the cloak moved from his shoulders and curled up in his lap, cradling the notebook steady. Stephen took the pen in shaking hands, unable to meet Tony’s excited eyes.

“I mean, it’s really not going to be perfect. My hands are ruined and ideally you’d use a protractor and a ruler-”

“Why aren’t you?”

Stephen shot Tony a dry look. That spike of indignancy spilled confidence into his bloodstream like ink from an overturned inkwell.

“Because its fucking midnight.”

He took a deep breath and steadied his pen in the center of the paper; a tiny ink star. Tony yawned, leaning forward and resting his chin on Stephen’s shoulder. Stephen drew another point, then a line connecting the two together. It was hardly perfect- shaky and unsteady- but Stephen couldn’t help the swell of pride and the bubbles of happiness blooming in his chest. He started going a bit faster, scratching away at the paper, hands trembling but sure.

“Ursa Major,” he muttered, labeling the constellation with tiny, uneven letters. “The great bear.”

Tony scoffed.

“That’s a bear? That looks like a spoon,” he snorted. He leaned in, watching Stephen with fascination and something just a little stronger than adoration as he sketched the next cluster of dots.

“And this is Ursa Minor. The little bear.”

“Looks like another spoon. Why do all of these look like spoons?”

“Not all of them do. Some of them look like triangles,” he murmured with a smile. He drew a long, winding line of dots between the two bears. “And this is Draco. Dragon.”

Tony squinted. In the dim light, he could almost pretend it was  _ something _ like a dragon.

“Alright. That one’s acceptable. But the rest of them are on thin ice.”

Stephen smiled.

“I’m sure the stars are dying for your approval.”

“Well, you said they’re already dead. It looks like there’s only one thing here that is worthy of my appreciation, and it’s not the sky,” Tony murmured. He leaned his head against Stephen’s shoulder and Stephen relished the comforting wave of warmth that washed over him. After a few seconds, Tony added: “It’s nice to see you happy.”

Stephen smiled.

“It’s nice to be happy.” It was nice to have something to be happy for.

And he continued to draw.

They made it another five constellations before Tony fell asleep on his arm. Stephen could feel his own eyes beginning to droop. He tore the page from the notebook. He folded it neatly and tucked it into Tony’s pocket. He packed everything back up then scooped Tony into his arms, using magic to steady his aching hands. He opened a portal into their bedroom and laid Tony down on the bed. He smiled. He smoothed Tony’s hair away from his face and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead.

Somewhere above them, the lights of new stars sped towards the earth and the remains of the old ones flickered and faded from existence and that was okay.

There was a gunshot, a deafening explosion, then:

“Strange! On your right!”

Stephen turned and flicked his fingers in a complex pattern, broken hands weaving golden spells in the same way a spider weaves its web. A shield flickered into existence just in time to block an explosion, although the blast was still strong enough to propel Stephen backwards into a wall. He fell to his knees, grinning back at the bad guy looming above him.

“Ooh! Harder Daddy,” he moaned obnoxiously loudly before pulling a sparking orange sword into existence and slicing upwards into his attacker. Blood splashed around him and he pulled the sword from its chest. The body slumped to the ground beside him.

A few groans and a chuckle echoed through his earpiece at his words.

“Really Tony? This is the guy you pick?” Natasha’s dry voice drew a laugh from both Stephen and Tony.

“Aw, come on Romanov. You know you love me,” he sang.

He was fighting alongside the Avengers, and for the first time in his life, it felt  _ right _ . Every blow he dealt, every foe he felled felt natural, like he was meant to do this. Fighting alongside a team of heroes to protect the earth instead of destroy it- it felt good.  _ He _ felt good. There was a blast off to his side and he turned towards the explosion. The noise distracted him for a second, drawing his attention away from the main fight until:

“Stephen! Watch out!”

He turned just a few seconds too late but just in time for Tony to dive in front of him, arms wrapping tight around his chest. Stephen stumbled backwards only to see Tony’s face contort with horror and pain. Stephen blinked. Then he saw the black blade sticking out from Tony’s stomach. Tony stumbled forwards, arms braced on Stephen’s shoulders as his attacker pulled the blade from his body. Tony went limp in his arms, staring up at Stephen, those beautiful eyes like pure sunlight spinning with pain and fear and something else. Something that spun dread up Stephen’s spine in the same way the winter wind weaves frost across glass, something that he knew all too well because he had felt it himself. Devotion.

Tony smiled up at him, eyes unfocused and ridden with delusion.

“Tony- Tony oh my God-”

“I-I’m fine, I’ll be fine are you safe?” Tony blabbed, voice slurred and unfocused.

“What? Tony! You’re bleeding out!”  
Tony buried his face in Stephen’s neck. The cloak wrapped itself around both of them almost like it was trying to cradle them from the world. Tony’s breaths were short and erratic against Stephen’s skin.

“I-I just don’t want you to-to- hurt anymore,” he mumbled.

“Tony, I’m fine! Please, just stay with me, okay?!” Stephen murmured frantically, pressing gentle kisses to Tony’s temple. He scooped Tony into his arms, ignoring the flair of pain in his hands and portaled them to a park away from the battle.

“I-I- want you to be h-happy, Stephen, promise me you’re happy?” Tony gasped. He coughed into Stephen’s chest and blood splattered from his lips.

“I-”

Stephen didn’t have time to reply before Tony’s eyes rolled back in his head and he went limp. He fell backwards onto the grass, head falling to the side.

Time seemed to slow and the entire world seemed to spin back into motion in a single, blinding flash of light. Stephen’s shattered hands flew to work, checking Tony’s pulse and pulling bandages from a pocket dimension, stripping back the nanite suit with magic so he could bind Tony’s wound. All he could focus on was Tony. He flicked his hands and orange runes raced across Tony’s chest. He knew Tony hated magic, but he needed to slow the bleeding. He dabbed at the wound frantically, pressing gauze to the cut and binding it with tape and bandages and a magical ribbon.

He didn’t deserve Tony. The man had sacrificed himself for Stephen, had thrown himself in danger just to keep him safe. And now he was bleeding out in Stephen’s arms. A dry sob wracked Stephen’s chest and he blinked away the tears blurring his vision. He was a horrible person. He had killed senselessly, slaughtered out of jealousy and obsession, and destroyed countless lives without a thought for what it meant to anyone but him, Tony, and Peter. He was nothing but a coward, hiding behind magic and claims of affection. But Tony, this Tony, convulsing in his arms as his organs threatened to fail, he was brave and selfless and wonderful. He was the stars in the sky and the waves on the beach, the heat of the summer sun and the comfort of a companion in bed at the end of a long day. He was a million times better than Stephen would ever be. Then Stephen  _ could _ ever be. Stephen sobbed again. He should have been the one to take that blade. He should be the one bleeding out. It would be a fitting comeuppance, after all. The perfect end to the perfect story. The villain, dying on the ground, defeated at last. So long as it wasn’t Tony.

There was blood everywhere; sticky and viscous and sickeningly sweet. The air around him smelled so thickly of copper Stephen felt himself growing light-headed. His hands were slick, trembling digits so covered in the sticky liquid to the point where he had to wipe his hands across the grass just to keep bandaging up the man he loved, because that’s what it was: love. He loved Tony so wholly and profusely, so deeply and purely that his heart ached with every beat. He hadn’t found love in the past, but here, now, after everything he’d been through- after everything  _ Tony  _ had been through- it was safe for him to love once more. Even if he’d never be the man Tony imagined him to be, and even if he can’t deal with that, he still knew that he was in love with Tony Stark in the same way the moon is in love with the sun. Unattainable, yet deep and endless.

He bound the wound to the best of his abilities and scooped Tony into his arms, ignoring the throbbing pain in his hands. He conjured a portal to the hospital and stumbled through, sobbing Tony’s name over and over like it was his mantra. Like it was a final prayer on the lips of a dying man.

Everything after that was a blur. He must have found a nurse or a doctor or someone, because the next thing he knew he was sitting alone in a waiting room, head resting in his shaking, blood-stained hands. He was alone with his thoughts echoing around his mind like the drips of water in a deep, dark cavern.

He hadn’t realized just how close he and Tony had grown again. He didn’t realize just how much he valued the other man’s presence, just how much he needed him to smile, how much he needed him to just fucking breathe. He had tried to distance himself. He knew that he could never have a happy ending, and he’d tried to keep Tony at an arm’s length, admiring him from afar rather than keeping him close to his side. But those eyes, that smile, that mind- bigger than the universe and infinitely more interesting… Well, it had been a slippery slope. It wasn’t hard to believe that he’d fallen again, it was only a matter of time after all, but he hadn’t realized just how far gone he was.

But now he was stuck, sitting there hugging himself, all alone in the waiting room of the hospital, so wracked with grief that his entire body ached and his mind screamed for release. He didn’t deserve Tony. That much was certain. And in staying by his side, in their love and affection, in every kiss he pressed to Tony’s temples there was only selfishness. He was doing nothing but hurting the both of them. But it was so hard to resist the perfect fairy tale that was Tony Stark.

He took a deep shuddering breath, clenching and unclenching his aching hands. Whatever he did, whatever the future held for him, all he wished was for Tony to be okay. After how much the universe screwed him over, surely it owed him this one thing, right? He may not deserve happiness and he may not deserve Tony, but Tony didn’t deserve  _ this _ . A single tear dripped down his cheek and fell to the floor, blossoming like a flower across the cold tiles. He was so alone.

He deserved it.

Tony looked dead. Stephen knew he wasn’t, of course, but with the wan look to his skin, the dull colour of his hair, the lack of pigment in his cheeks and lips- well, he looked closer to a corpse than the star Stephen cherished so. Something in Stephen’s throat tightened and he swallowed back tears. This was all his fault. Everywhere he went he caused nothing but pain and anguish and death. He was all alone in the world, Suffering himself as the only companion to the pale shade of Death that was Stephen. Stephen reached out his hand to Tony’s. He carefully curled his fingers around Tony’s limp one’s, minding the IV.

He had been there for what felt like eternity, just him and Tony and the blinking heart rate monitor alone in a room that felt too sterile to be comfortable. Hospitals used to bring him comfort, confidence even. He had taken great joy in his skills as a surgeon. He had taken great joy in saving people. After his accident, the hospital always felt cold and empty, almost like it was mocking him. But now he was too tired to care. Now all he could feel was exhaustion. He was so sick of everything. He was so sick of being alive. All life did for Stephen was throw horror and bloodshed at him over and over again. All it did for Stephen was corrupt every moment with an indescribable despair. Even when he was happy there was an overwhelming sense of doom that tinged even the best of memories with sadness. It seemed like nothing would ever get better. He could never be happy and he could never have the one thing that made him smile. So why was he still doing this? Was the stress of life really worth it? None of the ups outweighed the downs. So why was he still trying?

Well, he had come this far. Might as well keep going. They always said there was a light at the end of the tunnel, that everything would eventually be okay. Well Stephen was in one helluva tunnel and it didn’t look like things were getting better. And now, now he didn’t even have the one thing keeping him going. His final purpose in life was lying prone in bed beside him, as still and lifeless as a plucked rose.

The tears pushed past his throat and a weak sob breached his lips. Pathetic. Tears fell from his eyes, and somehow the silence that accompanied them was more terrifying than any cries of despair. He hung his head, clutching Tony’s hand like a lifeline.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. His fragile voice was barely louder than the clamour of the hospital outside their room. “I’m so, so sorry Tony. There are so many things I wish I could change- but I just can’t. The past is in the past. And pretending I can just ignore it is tearing everything apart.” He let out a tiny, tear-soaked laugh. He ran his trembling thumb over Tony’s knuckles. “I’m hurting you. I’m hurting you and the worst part is that I know and yet I can’t bring myself to stop. I can’t bring myself to give you up. You’re the first thing that’s made me happy in a long, long time. But you don’t deserve any of this. I just wish you didn’t have to suffer because of me. I wish you were awake and happy and okay. You deserve the world, Tony. I just wish I could give it to you.”

He sniffled, staring down at the ground in shame. His chest ached so much he was almost certain someone had reached deep into his ribcage and torn out his heart. He hung his head, eyes squeezed tightly shut as tears dripped down his cheekbones and onto the floor below like dying stars framed on a plane of ice.

Then the fingers intertwined with his shifted and a pulse of gentle warmth flooded up from the point where two worlds collided. Stephen’s head shot up and he laughed in relief. Tony’s eyes were open and although he looked fucking exhausted he was  _ alive  _ and that was enough for Stephen.

“You’re awake!” he cried, unable to help the smile that rose to his face.

“Well, you were squeezing my hand so much it was hard not to be,” Tony snickered.

Stephen felt tears well in his eyes. Even after waking up from a two day coma Tony was still so insufferably brilliant. How could Stephen ever wish for anything different? He lunged forwards and wrapped his arms tight around Tony’s neck, careful to mind his wound.  _ God  _ he loved Tony so, so much. He buried his face in the crook of Tony’s neck, pressing smiling kisses against his skin as if he was afraid Tony would dissolve into ash right there in his arms. He was still crying but at this point he couldn’t tell if it was from grief or joy. He liked to think it was joy.

“Woah there doc, what’s with the waterworks?”

“I hate you,” he muttered, sobbing against Tony’s shoulder. He paused, blushing as he admitted something that he had always hidden in the past. “I missed you.”

“Well I’m here now and I’m fine.” Tony paused, looking over at the monitor by the side of the bed. “Well at least I think I am. You’re the expert here, though. So tell me, Doctor Strange, am I going to be okay?” he teased.

Stephen pulled back and stared up at those eyes of gold and sparks and stars with nothing short of pure admiration. He leaned forwards and pressed a smiling kiss against Tony’s lips before pulling back and leaning their foreheads together. Somehow, it was more intimate than the kiss.

“You’ll be fine, Tony.”

“Oh no no no. None of that. Remember? Nine PhD’s.”

Stephen bit back a laugh.

“Fine. I think you’ll be okay,  _ Doctor Stark _ .”

Tony smiled up at him, devotion swimming in his watery eyes. He traced a gentle thumb over Stephen’s cheekbone, wiping away the remaining tears. Stephen couldn’t stop the happiness bubbling up in his chest. Everything was perfect, even if it was just for a second.

“So long as you’re with me,  _ Doctor Strange _ , I’ll always be okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “There’s a monster at the end of this book. It’s a blank page where the story ends and you’re left alone with yourself and your thoughts.” -Welcome to Night Vale
> 
> Stop now if you want a happy ending.


	11. Interlude: Curiosity Symtoms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something's wrong. Something was very wrong, and Stephen had absolutely no idea what's going on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'm not dead! I just had to take some time and do some planning and re-write the ending. So basically, I'm going to be writing two endings, one happy and one bittersweet/sad. They'll be coming up soon, so stay tuned. In the mean time, here is the set up to the end. Sorry this took so long and that its so short, but enjoy!

To say something was wrong would be an understatement. As would ‘what the EVER-LOVING  _ FUCK  _ just happened?!!’ Honestly, Stephen didn’t really know  _ what _ to say in this situation. All his years as a doctor and later sorcerer supreme never exactly covered what to do when your evil clone broke into your house, threatened to nail you, then tossed you into another dimension and left you to die. But he did know one thing. He had to get back home. Evil Stephen had threatened Tony. And their dimension. But mostly Tony. And in Stephen’s eyes, Tony, of all people, didn’t deserve whatever horrors his demon dupe had in mind.

Stephen stumbled to his feet, looking around in horror. There had been countless renditions of the apocalypse told throughout time, but of all of them, this one looked the most like a nightmare.

Everything around him was decimated beyond repair. The pavement was cracked and warped, streets resembling the hardened lava of volcanoes more than any road Stephen had seen. The buildings of New York City, once shining and grand, were all but leveled, the massive monoliths now reduced to nothing but concrete and broken glass and rebar, the ruin standing tall against a smoke-filled skyline. The broken landscape was shockingly absent of bodies, but Stephen had a chilling suspicion that all of them- all dead- rested elsewhere. It was just him now. Not just in New York, but the whole world. The whole  _ universe _ . He was all alone, a single star amidst the broken shell of humanity.

Being alone had always terrified him, as had surrounding himself with people he cared for. But this- this suffocating emptiness, this supreme knowledge that there was no one left- it left Stephen’s head reeling, a hollow, deafening ringing echoing in his ears. Something had happened here. Something beyond human comprehension.

Past the destruction, there was this… essence tainting the air. Something sick and twisted and desperate. It made Stephen’s stomach churn. What the hell had happened here?! What did this have to do with his clone?

Stephen looked around once more, this time to his immediate surroundings. He was on the second floor of some building, surrounded by glass and torn pages and endless ruble. The front of the building was completely destroyed, leaving nothing but broken beams and crumbling stone as a barrier against the outside world. He walked to the edge of the second floor, staring out at the world below. Even in such a state of destruction, he still knew that street like the back of his hand. He spun around, and his heart trembled as the building sharpened into a clearer focus. Suddenly the peeling wallpaper was familiar, the broken and worn floorboards an old friend. He peered down past the wall and his heart dropped. There, cracked across the ground like the halo of a fallen angel, was the large, circular window to the New York City skyline. This wasn’t just any dilapidated building. This was the Sanctum Sanctorum, the place he had sworn his life to protect, abandoned and rotting. Something inside him shattered.

What had happened here? What could cause this much destruction?

Stephen stumbled forwards, then collapsed, gasping. Every inch of his body  _ burned _ . Every bone felt like it had been broken and healed over a thousand times, every inch of skin stretched and burning with the heat of a thousand suns. He let out a broken cry of pain and frantically wove magic through the air. He muttered the words for the spell, hissing them under his breath. The runes flashed a bright, searing red and the magic soaked into his hands, racing up his arms and sparking across his body with one bright pop. He let out a sigh of relief, slumping back as quiet numbness washed over him. That was much better. What the hell had happened? What could cause such immeasurable pain?

He stood once more and walked towards the room he called home in a world so far away. The door was off its hinges, splintered across the ground. He stepped over it and into the room. The air was thick with dust, the windows covered in grime. Clothes were scattered everywhere, as were a number of dusty, molding books. He snapped his fingers and sparks filled the room, hovering in the air and casting a warm golden light over everything. He crossed to the tall, mirror in the corner, the ornate wooden frame practically the same as the one he knew. The face of the mirror was covered in dust and Stephen picked up a nearby blanket and wiped it clean. The mirror was cracked at eye-level, spiderweb fractures lacing out from a central point almost as if someone had driven their fist into the glass. Stephen cocked his head, shuddering as his reflection, split into countless demented splinters, stared back at him with nothing but fear.

His face looked… almost the same. Maybe a few new cuts and a couple more lines, but more or less, it was the same face he saw every day. There were a few abnormalities outside of the physical, too. He could sense the rune pulsing at his forehead, hidden from this layer of reality. Dark magic. He shuddered. Abhorrent. When he promised himself to the mystic arts he had sworn not to stray from the path, yet here he was. Although inadvertent, it still clawed at his soul and left him aching and uncomfortable.

But that wasn’t all, was it? He could feel more, not magic, but something else, scattered across his body. The way they burned, there was no way it was just physical. Shaking hands rose to the clasps of his robe, slowly pulling aside the fabric and letting it fall to his sides.

Oh.

Almost every inch of his body was covered in letters and burns and cuts and a million other raised white scars stark against his skin. Stephen shuddered, bile rising in his throat. What the hell had happened here? How had- how had this happened? Trembling fingers rose to his chest, tracing the words written over and over again like his skin was the diary pages of a maniacal fixation.

_ Tony Stark. Tony Stark’s. Mine. My baby. My property. _

This poor body, this beaten vessel, was covered in scars, covered in possessive proclamations of ‘love.’ His shaking hand stopped over his heart. There was a particularly nasty burn- no,  _ brand _ \- there.  _ TS _ . He shivered. It was obvious what that stood for. But what had happened? Had his… other self done this? No. That wasn’t possible, he figured. There were too many all over, and they felt… deep. No one could do this to themselves without… consequences. So something- some _ one _ \- had done this. And Stephen had a sneaking suspicion as to who that was.

A spark of pain flared in his back, pushing past his magic. He hissed and tears rose to his eyes. He dropped the last bit of his robe and turned around, craning his neck to look over his shoulder.

Oh  _ fuck _ .

Carved into his back in large angry gashes were the angry, pain-laden words:

_ Property of Tony Stark _

Stephen’s chest felt tight. What had happened here?! Stephen gulped. What kind of fucked up, twisted world was this? Tony would never do this to him! But this wasn’t his Tony, was it? He shivered. He dreaded to meet the Tony this world had to offer. His vision swam. It was like every second he looked at the markings he could all but see the hand that had sliced them. Like he could peer into that hot room, see the flashes of silver, all but hear that gentle lilting voice whispering sweet promises as he carved his ownership into a love-drunk mind. Something had happened here. Something twisted. Something dark. Something that had painted over the bloody stains of trauma with the pretenses of pleasure. Another wave of pain washed over him and he gasped. His stomach churned. This world was sick. Shockingly, he could understand why his alternate self longed to leave.

He turned forwards once more, vision swirling as he stared at his familiar icy eyes through the cracks of the mirror. He looked like a monster. Or, more specifically, a monster’s pet. The face staring back at him was so familiar, yet so drastically different. He had read somewhere that back in the 1800’s scientists thought the human eye recorded every experience etched in the iris. If that was true this body would bleed nothing but neon horror from twin oceans of pain.

There was something wrong with these scars. Something deeper. He traced the brand on his chest. He could practically feel the heat radiating from the mark, feel the flesh pop and melt as the smell of burning meat filled the air. He shuddered and yanked his hand away. These weren’t just scars. They were memories. Magic. Almost certainly unintentional, he figured, but potent nonetheless. And this level of clarity- well, the caster must have felt nothing but desperation as they clung to each bond. He had read about this, back at Karmartaj. Bonds imbued emotion in objects- or in this case, marks- with tiny wisps of memories; not visions, just sensations of what had transpired. It took great focus and concentration to form a bond. Or, in this case, a great desperation so strong it split his soul into fragments.

No wonder his other self was manic and obsessive. He was covered in memories of the past. But something wasn’t quite right. It felt more like a desperate bid to cover an undesirable past with the illusion of love, than a genuine fondness of the memories. Stephen pulled his robes back around him, shivering despite the sourceless heat of the sanctum. He was beginning to see what happened here, and if it had remotely anything to do with the viscous mania painted across his skin, it was nothing short of bloody.

He stumbled out of the sanctum and onto a street that barely even looked like New York anymore. Around him, the walls of an empire stood jagged and dethroned, void of their previous glory. The world was empty. Gone. A terrible sense of loneliness swept over Stephen. It was just him. Just him standing amidst the rubble of a fallen kingdom, just him to roam the broken dreams of the human race. A heavy sense of loss settled in his throat. A tight mourning that made his tongue feel thick and tears swim in his eyes. This had clearly been magic, and it had clearly been intentional. All that emotional damage, all that longing and desire and desperation and pure undiluted  _ mania _ had built up into a gun and his other self had pulled the trigger. That was all there was to the story. This had to be what his other self had dreamt of, had  _ longed for _ . The world had ended. Just like he had wanted.

Stephen ran his shaking hand over the dusty roof of a decimated car. His shaking fingers left trails in the grime, like the lines eyes drew between stars. Like the bars of sheet music. Like the marks that covered a body that wasn’t his own. A body that didn’t belong to his mind. Stephen’s hand curled into a fist. Something light and angry bubbled in his stomach like anguished laughter and he slammed his hand into the glass of the windshield. A wave of pain washed through his hand and up his wrist and he cried out. He stopped, staring down at the crumpled up car beside him. Suddenly, he had the sickening urge to laugh. How fucking worse could this be?! Nothing was ever going to be happy again. This was the end. There was nothing he could do besides fall apart until he matched the broken world around him. There was a sort of morbid mirth found with that hopelessness, something that had pushed his mind to the edge. This world had sunk and soon he would join it, drowning in the sticky, viscous petroleum of madness.

He fell to his knees, unable to stop the hysterical giggle that rose in his throat. In a morbid sense, he supposed it was only fitting for him to die alone when that was the way he had spent his entire life. He had always figured he’d pass in some form of solitude. He just didn’t know it would be in a universe completely devoid of all life. How fitting. The lonely man who had endured countless deaths set to pass in a universe devoid of life. He chuckled, the tears in his eyes from mirth, now, in place of sadness. Suddenly it was all just too funny! Oh the irony… existence was meaningless and death was imminent. All his years of schooling, all the books he’d read and all the expertise he’d gained- none of it mattered now. Nothing mattered. He was going to die alone in a world he didn’t belong to in a body that wasn’t his. While it was by no means the strongest drug, helplessness was incapacitating to a fault.

His chest heaved, torn apart by the vicious petals that flowered from his laughter. He felt like he was being torn apart at the seams, bursting from the inside out. Like any second now his flesh would explode, ruptured by the flowers borne from his bleeding corpse. Like the seeds of mirth had planted a garden in his chest, expanding and expanding and expanding until he couldn’t breath and his vision swam with asphyxiation. He braced himself against the ground, anger and euphoria and despair and shock boiling together into a dark, sticky madness.

A tear rolled down his cheek and splattered against the dusty ground, a single dark star stark against the torn pavement. Something inside him clicked and the writhing storm of emotions inside his mind fell silent. This wasn’t… him. These weren’t his thoughts, these weren’t his reactions. There was something more at play here. Something far beyond the physical. Lingering remnants of nostalgia so strong they had tainted even the perception of a completely separate mind.

He pulled himself to his feet and let his eyes drift closed. He focused, and slowly his physical and his astral form collided, as did the layers of reality. Stephen let out a soft sigh and his third eye opened, all layers of reality, sub, super, and visible all combined into one. To see dark magic, light magic, strange magic all mixed up into the world around him- it was always beautiful. But not this time.

Stephen opened his third eye and the world around him went dark. The city turned to dust and the sky to blood. Deep, swirling charcoal smoke spiraled around him and thick tar bubbled in the ground like the earth herself was bleeding. There was nothing short of destruction around him. Nothing but infinite, final, horror. Normally the world was teeming with magic, spirits and animals unseen to the inexperienced eye that filled the air and the sky and the ground; the small, kind creatures who did their best to aid the Earth. Now there was nothing. The entire world- no, scratch that,  _ universe _ was empty. Life had just… ceased to exist. It was gone from every plant, every sentient creature, every star and every planet. There was… nothing. The universe was nothing but a bleeding husk, rotting and decaying and wasting away into nothingness.

This kind of decimation- it was an ending. This world had been gutted from the inside out. The world, the universe- every single last drop of power had been drained, every single life taken. Nothing could bring this world back. It was long past the point of no return, it’s only future to shrivel and burn and feed upon itself until it gnawed its own bones clean and bled into nothingness, its skeleton forever abandoned in the infinite forest of the multiverse. And above all of that, settled, like a sticky, viscous layer of oozing corruption, was a pulsing,  _ living _ , membrane of tar-like insanity. Of fear and sadness and need and desire and desperation and obsession.

It was the tar-like remnants of his foil’s ‘love.’

The very air was sticky and sweet with it. Practically everything was coated in it, that pulsating, oozing membrane of that toxic infatuation and desperation. And it especially clung to Stephen. His body was coated in it, sticky and hot and constricting. It felt like wading through boiling tar, like it was burning his skin and peeling the layers back one by one. Like it was seeping through his skin and into his bones. Like thick, heavy, gummy ropes had bound him to the spot, twisting and pulling and covering him in viscous, twisted emotion. It oozed from every pore, every orifice until he couldn’t help but suffocate under its sticky corruption. He felt dizzy, his throat tight and his stomach roiling. He retched, pushing his hands against his body, trying in vain to pull the sticky, dark veins from his skin. It clung to his hands, spreading oily webs and dripping down his arms in burning desperation.

Stephen let out a frantic cry, shaking his hands once before pushing them together, and with one final burst of strength, he flicked his hands through the slime and a glowing mandala appeared, the same burning red as his magic before. A wave of peace washed over him and he felt his mind clear. The tar washed away and he let out a long sigh. All the bonds carved into his skin disappeared, the memories rising into the sky like butterflies. There was nothing left of this body that belonged to the earth. The scars remained, but he had banished the memories that accompanied them far, far away. Stephen took a deep breath, flexing his fingers. He had purged his body of the past. Hopefully that would keep the… darkness at bay for now. It wasn’t a permanent solution, granted Stephen wasn’t exactly sure if there  _ was _ one. But this would have to do for now.

It was only a matter of time before the darkness his alternate self had conjured destroyed everything. But maybe, if Stephen could figure out exactly what had happened, what had triggered this mess, he could find a way to fix it. He looked around. There was darkness all around, but it was thickest leading north. He stood and dusted off his clothes. North it was then.

As he walked, the buildings grew more and more warped, the sky broiling darker with clouds, the very air crackling with toxic electricity. It was like the further he went, the more the world fell apart. He just hoped he could find a way to put it back together again.

The street before him opened up onto a large green, one that any New Yorker would recognize in an instant. Central Park. The air swirled thick with anxiety, heavy clouds of need and infatuation heavy in the air. It was like the park was a beacon for all the magical energy that had shrouded the universe in death. He entered the park. The air was heavy and humid with magic. His feet stuck to the concrete path, gummy tendrils of desire pulling at him weakly as if trying to coax him into the earth. He followed the path, unsure of where it was leading, of what would lie at the end. But he was close. The desperation was strongest there. The magic had grown thicker, into a swirling cloud of darkness so dense he could hardly see. But the end was just ahead, past the wall. He braced himself, preparing for the worst. Bodies. Pools filled with blood and dark magic and baby heads- he had no idea what to expect. He stepped through the mist and the air cleared. The vortex swirled heavy around him, but right there, in the center of the chaos, everything was… fine.

Stephen let out a sigh and looked around. He hadn’t been sure what to expect but it definitely wasn’t green grass and gravestones. Two gravestones balanced above fresh mounds of earth, to be precise. Suddenly he understood why the mania was gone. It had been washed away by grief. Across the graves, lay two rudimentary wreaths of flowers. The arrangements were shaky at best, but Stephen could feel the pain and the tears that had gone into making it. He knelt at the earth, examining the graves. The stones were perfectly smooth, but there was a faint buzz of magic humming across the surface. He opened his third eye once more and his suspicions were confirmed.

_ Peter. I’m so sorry, my son. I failed you. _

_ Tony. I’ll love you until the end of time. I promise I’ll find a way to fix this. I promise. _

They had had a plan, but something went wrong. Something so terrible that the sheer emotional toll had been enough to destroy the world as they knew it. His other self had loved and loved and lost so much. The only two people he felt safe with, the only two people he  _ adored _ , had died, leaving him alone in a world torn apart by chaos. It was no wonder he had longed to leave, that he had been desperate enough to find a way. But that still didn’t quite explain why the sky was so clear, why the air was fresh and clean. There had to be something beyond grief here, some sort of other energy foreign to this world. He stood and paced in a circle. Then he sensed it. There, behind the graves, in the center of the cyclone was the faint trace of a portal. An inter-multiversal portal.

This was the point where the universe split at the seams, where this world ended and another began. And what was worse, he could feel the desperation and mania beginning to seep through to a universe that was undoubtedly his. Corruption in its purest form. He needed to find a way to stop it if it was the last thing he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if you're a little confused, I know that this was weird and vague and metaphorical, so just let me know if you want some clarification! Also, feel free to let me know what you thought!  
Chapter title is from Fran Bow  
(low-key pictured it as the regular reality and the ultra reality when Stephen was poking around, kudos to you if you get that reference)


	12. Love Like You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A happy ending and the only ending. The world sucks enough as it is right now. We don't need more negativity, yeah?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to get out. My life has gotten far busier since quarantine began, if possible. I hope y'all enjoyed the story, though.

The world was so dark. Almost suffocatingly so. In the past Stephen would have stared up into the endless blurring black of the void and felt nothing but pure, dull, fear. But here, now, with his lover by his side, the dark seemed warmer. Like all the cold brushstrokes had given way to the glimmers of red sands and stardust. The dark wasn’t suffocating. It wasn’t scary. It was a palette of paint and a fresh canvas for his imagination to paint upon, a blank slate upon which he could create entire worlds. The black had once looked so, so unfamiliar. Now it was simply a soft voice whispering in the wind. Stephen used to believe that fear would come when he let his mind wander. But really, it only happened when he dared toe that single red line in his mind, the line separating his past from the present. It hadn’t been his mind that scared him, but his life. And now, now that everything was better, it was his memories.

Stephen blinked, refreshing the swirling cloud of ink above him. He was so warm, bundled in blankets and pressed close to his love, so close they were almost one, their heartbeats tied in tandem. They had grown so close, hadn’t they? Inseparably so. But this time there was no parasite. There were no ulterior motives within each longing gaze, no manipulation in their lingering touches. But even so… Stephen clenched his jaw. If anything he was manipulating Tony. All the things he had done, the people he had hurt- it was all so so horrible. So cruel and twisted and far beyond words and saving and anything close to love. He had suffered. He had caused others to suffer. Like it or not he was guilty. And Tony- this kind wonderful Tony- deserved to know that.

But what would Tony think? There was another Stephen. One who truly belonged to this world. One who could have just as easily wooed Tony Stark. And with all the things Stephen had done… He had sworn an oath to do no harm. His Hippocratic oath. That truly hadn’t stopped him, had it? He was broken. His past was pockmarked with bullet holes and land mines. His future was fragile from corrosion and acid and his support beams shattered by emotions. He had picked up a cracked and crumbling dream and patched it together with  _ Scotch  _ tape. It wouldn’t hold. Not with secrets this big. But this was the first time in a long time that he had been happy. That he had allowed himself to be happy. But that happiness would drown in the tar of his secrets, wouldn’t it? It would sink down until it was just as sticky and slimy and corrupt as his past. Tony deserved to know, even if it shattered his dreams.

In bed beside him, Tony shifted, yawning and rolling over to face Stephen. His eyes cracked open and he blinked blearily. Stephen’s heart beat so hard against his chest that he feared it would break.

“Stephen, babe, what are you still doing up?” Tony yawned.

He looked so innocent- the faint ebb and flow of unconsciousness like a halo painted through the bleary dark- Stephen couldn’t stand it. He had to tell him.

“Tony, I-” His lungs froze over. It was okay. He had to do this. He squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath. “I have something I need to tell you. Something about my past.”

Tony sighed and pulled him close.

“That’s okay. Tell me everything.”

Stephen closed his eyes. He couldn’t stand to watch as he tore his own life apart, piece by piece.

“I- I’m not your Stephen.”

Silence.

“I’m from another dimension. I-I- Things went wrong. The world burned. I… I couldn’t stay. So I came here. And I switched place with the Stephen you know.” There was more silence. “I- I’m sorry, Tony I swear! I was so scared and alone and all I could feel was death sticking to my skin like pine sap and I just wanted to feel okay again-”

“Hey, hey hey.” A warm hand wrapped around his own and Stephen let his eyes drift open. Tony had sat up, framed by the hazy glow of the city skyline, staring intently at Stephen. “It’s okay. Tell me everything.”

Stephen flinched. He tried to pull his hand away but Tony held it fast.

“Tony I’ve done such terrible things-”

“Tell me  _ everything _ .”

Stephen gave in. They spoke until the sun colored the sky a faint purple, until the air began to warm and the city rose from its slumber and began its drowsy day. When his final confession left his lips their room washed bright with gold and there was nothing but silence in the air. Stephen sniffled, trying and failing to quell his tears. Numbly, he noticed that he was shaking. How pathetic.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything,” Stephen muttered. His words seemed deafening in such thick uncut silence. “I know I need to leave. I know I’ve done nothing to deserve your trust and your care and your lo-”

“Stephen.”

Two warm hands folded his own scarred match and Stephen flinched.

“Tony…”

“I’m… wow this sounds weird… but I’m proud of you. For telling me this.” Tony paused, seemingly unable to meet Stephens eyes. Stephen couldn’t blame him. He was a monster. He closed his eyes, his vision spinning neon with shame. “Stephen… You know I’m not upset, right?”  
Stephen yanked his hands away.

“How can you not be?!” he snapped. His throat felt raw with pain. “I’m disgusting. I’m the very thing you swore to protect this world from.” His voice cracked. “A villain.”

Tony sighed, carding a hand through his hair.

“Stephen. Things aren’t black and white. Nothing is. Especially people. And from what it sounds like… you weren’t the one who craved pain and destruction. You were coerced into it. While I’m not this is an excuse for all the things you did, I’m saying it wasn’t entirely your choice. You were abused.”

Stephen flinched at the word.

“Come on Tony. You know that’s not it.”

“Well then, what would you call it?”

“I fell in love with the wrong person.”

“You didn’t fall in love, Stephen. You were lured into a trap set by a spider.” This time Tony’s sigh was sharp, like the edge of a serrated knife. “God I wish I could have helped you.”

Something deep in Stephen’s chest ached at the thought. Looking back on his relationship with…  _ him  _ he could see that it wasn’t healthy. That it was anything but that. But that didn’t make it any less clear. Looking back on the past was like looking at photos shot through a blurry lense. Images he had thought were cloudy with nostalgia were really jumbled and unfocused. And he didn’t really know where to start putting the pieces back together.

“I…” he despised the way his voice trembled.

“Stephen. It’s okay. You don’t have to figure everything else now. Trying to figure out things like this takes time. And support. We’ll get you a therapist, yeah? And I promise I’ll be by your side every step of the way.”

Stephen finally brought his head up, eyes blurry with unshed tears. Their eyes met and Stephen found himself drowning in those beautiful eyes- this time not in their anger and lust and desire but in their kindness and comfort.

“How can you say that after everything I’ve told you?”

“Because I know that you want to fix things, Stephen. And I want to help you do so. Destiny and fate gave you another chance-”

Stephen’s harsh laugh cut off any and all words Tony had been about to say.

“No. That’s bullshit. I held fate at fucking gunpoint and demanded a redo.”

“No, Stephen. You were in pain. That- That  _ monster  _ tormented you. He tore you apart at the seams and pulled out your stuffing and filled you with blood and gore and pain then stitched you right back up.” Tony’s voice was sharp and dripping with disdain. “I wish he was dead.”

“He is.”

“I-”

“He died with the others.” Even after everything he had been through, Stephen’s heart still ached at the thought. “We were married, you know. Fifteen years. And I buried him.” Stephen’s voice was hollow and empty. He didn’t know how to feel anymore. He just felt… empty.

“Oh.”

There was a stretch of silence.

“Stephen…”

“Yes?”

“If you’re from an alternate universe… Tommy wasn’t really… Tommy, was he?” Stephen fell silent, unable to meet Tony’s eyes. Tony pressed on. “Who was he Stephen?”  
The pained look in Tony’s eyes told Stephen he already knew.

“Who- who was he?”

“He was you.”

Something in Tony’s eyes seemed to crack and shatter. He sat back, eyes staring off into space as the sun rose over the New York City skyline. Stephen’s lungs felt like they were filling with blood. Endless buckets and buckets and buckets of sticky viscous liquid clogging up his airway and coagulating in his esophagus. He choked out a weak sob and hung his head, burying his face in his shaking broken hands. He had held out all night, but as the first rose-gold rays of the sun splashed across the floor of the bedroom Stephen let go. His quiet, shaky sobs seemed to snap Tony out of his daze. The other man rushed to his side, quick to comfort. Faintly, Stephen was reminded of just how dearly he loved him.

“Oh Stephen, I-”

“I’m so so sorry Tony I swear- please!” Stephen’s throat was raw and wet with tears. He buried his face into Tony’s shoulder, his whole body shaking with the force of his sobs. “Please- I don’t want to hurt anymore.”

“Oh Stephen… I promise. You won’t ever need to. I’ll be here,” Tony mumbled, one hand rubbing soothing circles across his back and one carding through his hair. Stephen trembled in his embrace, suddenly as small and weak and fragile as a child. But he still had one card left to give up.

“I love you Tony.”

The words were so, so frustratingly quiet, mumbled weakly into the crook of Tony’s neck. But Stephen had no doubt that Tony had heard him. As soon as the words had been muttered into his embrace, Tony went completely still. He pulled away from Stephen a little and Stephen closed his eyes, accepting his inevitable fate. Then Tony pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead and the world seemed to stop spinning, if only for these fleeting words..

“I love you too, Stephen.”

Nothing was working. Nothing was working! He had tried everything. Every counter-spell, every ward, every ritual he knew. Each one was met with a resounding splash of useless red sparks. The world was going to die, and he with it. Finally he understood exactly why his counterpart had been so giddy and cruel in their brief meeting. There was something so funny about the inevitability of death- about the complete lack of control. He was going to die here, stuck in a world to which he didn’t even belong.

Vaguely he realized he was back in central park, back at the graves. At the eye of the magical hurricane. Then again, it was the only quiet place left in the world anymore. The only place where if he pretended hard enough he could almost imagine was back home in his world. He could sit down on the grass under a tree and read a book, drifting far far away from his inescapable doom. The corruption was getting worse. He could feel it. Every single second tipped the Earth closer and closer to oblivion, the scales broken and lopsided and tipped inevitably towards the icy center of hell.

Stephen shivered. He hugged his knees to his chest, and closed his eyes. This body felt so similar to his own… if he just ignored the pain and the scars and all the years and years of brutal damage he could pretend he hadn’t been forced into the mutilated cage of someone else’s soul. This was it. There was nothing he could do. He was going to die here, wasn’t he? Briefly his mind flitted around, running through all the lives he could have lived- all the things he could have done- if he had just done things differently. But the fleeting, immaterial rays of hope vanished as soon as his mind killed them with the sharp reminder of reality. Daydreams would do nothing but taunt him. He just needed to suck it up and accept his fate. What good would imagining do him anyways? He was dead. He was dead and nothing could ever help him.

He hung his head and buried his face in his arms. Tears, sticky and burning and hot dripped down his cheeks, quiet, silent sobs racking his body as he curls more and more inwards, as if he crumpled himself up small enough all the pain would compress inside him.

He was dead.

A fizzling sound filled the air and Stephen froze. No. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. He couldn’t get his hopes up. All the world would do was crush them again. He was dead. He was dead. He as dead!

“Hey.”

Stephen froze. He didn’t dare look up.

“Hey, Ste- Strange, it’s me. Tony.”

“T-Tony?” His voice trembled.

“C’mon. No time for chit chat. We need to get you out of here. Stephen says this place is dangerous.”

Stephen’s head jerked up at that. The world flashed into focus and his head throbbed. Tony- Tony fucking Stark was standing above him, concern laced and woven into those beautiful brown eyes. And behind him- Stephen jumped to his feet.

“Tony! Stay back! He’s dangerous!”

Behind Tony stood that demon who had stolen his body. That fucking nightmare who was wearing his face and his skin and had stolen his  _ life _ . Stephen pushed Tony behind him and tried to summon the Ruby Rings of Raggador… only to cough and double over in pain and overexertion.

“Woah… calm down buddy,” Tony muttered, patting his back awkwardly. “He’s okay. He’s with me.”

“No! You don’t understand! That’s- that’s not the Stephen you know! I’m him! He-”

“Stole your body. I know.”

“You… what?” Stephen blinked up at Tony with confusion.

“We don’t have time for this,” snapped the Stephen standing at the portal. “Tony, bring him here.”

Tony hauled Stephen to his feet and led him to the portal. Stephen was lost. How in the Vishanti could Tony know? Was it something with his tech? Or did- did that monster  _ tell  _ him? No. Stephen flashed back to that fight- the first time he had met that creature of pure darkness. It- he- whatever it was was far too cruel and violent and disgusting to ever admit to what he had done. To the world he destroyed.

They reached the portal and Stephen forced himself to his feet, staring down the monster wearing his face and his life with as much hatred as he could muster. He wanted to wring the life out of that demon, to tear him apart piece by piece just as it had torn apart this beautiful innocent world. The monster couldn’t even bear to meet his eyes. Stephen all but scoffed. Pathetic. Monsters could never even acknowledge the consequences of their actions. Then he raised his head and Stephen was slightly taken aback to see that those eyes- his eyes- were filled with nothing short of eternal remorse.

“I- I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry,” he whispered, his voice tight and low and oh so desperate. “I thought- I thought I could fix things, when all I ever did was break them. I’m- I can’t do this anymore.”

Stephen’s doppelganger hung his head, tears dripping from his eyes and down to the grass below. Stephen didn’t know how to react. Surely he couldn’t mean it. This was a ruse. This was a hoax. A ploy for something. But what?

Then his dupe reached out and brought his fingers to Stephen’s forehead and in a flash of blinding light he was back in his own body. His muscles immediately relaxed and he sighed in relief of a pain he hadn’t even been aware of. What the fuck was happening?

“Tony.” His other self’s voice was hoarse and resigned. “Take him back. I’ll stay. It’s only what I deserve.” He laughed weakly. “You make the bed you sleep in, yeah?”

His smile was far too broken-hearted to ever seem convincing.

“What? Stephen you-”

“No.” Stephen started. His own words surprised him. But… well… maybe there was something else to be done. But if his other self stayed here… he would certainly die. Reality was tearing apart at the seams, and anyone who stayed here would fall with it. And as much pain as that cruel man had brought him no one deserved a fate as cruel as that. He had sworn an oath to do no harm, and that, he supposed, extended to himself. He cleared his throat and continued. “This world is ridden with corrupt magic. It’s hardly suitable for survival.”

“No. I destroyed this world. It’s my duty to stay here until its end. Think of it as… comeuppance for all my sins.”

“Stephen…” Tony’s voice sounded like it was seconds away from fracturing into a thousand butterflies. “Stephen I-”

“It’s okay, Tony.” His other self smiled through the tears, reaching out and taking Tony’s hands in his own trembling ones. “You have him now. He’s your Stephen. I’m nothing more than an intruder. When I’m gone, he can take care of you. You’ll be happy, right?”

Tony’s eyes were desperate and filled with tears.

“No! Stephen, how could you ever think that?! _You're_ my Stephen! I fell in love with  _ you _ ! I love  _ you _ ! You are not replaceable. Understand? And I’m not fucking letting you go, okay?”

“Tony-”

“Okay?!”

His other self finally found the courage to raise his head and meet Tony’s gaze. The moment was so tender Stephen felt like he was intruding upon something sacred- something so private the sun and the moon and the stars themselves were holding their breath.

“O-Okay.”

“Great. I’m going home. And I’m bringing both of you with me, consequences be damned. We’ll figure out things better later. And retrieve Wong. You said you had to do that too, yeah?”

“Yeah…”

“Great. Now let’s get out of here and never come back.”

Tony and the scarred Stephen stepped through the portal, back to a clean, whole Stark Tower- rid of any manifestations of dark magic. Tony looked back at Stephen.

“You coming?”

“Y-Yeah…”

Stephen stepped through the portal and they closed it behind him, locking all the darkness and corruption behind them. The world was empty now, and now, after all it's suffering, it could finally rest.

He had been planning on staying. He was going to die with the world he destroyed. He had taken a book and torn out the final page of the story and burned it in a desperate ploy to keep the story from finishing. And he had planned on burning with the book. But now- well, all stories had to come to a close eventually. And while it wasn’t the happy ending he had always imagined- he had been forced into imaging- it was fucking perfect. He was… happy.

He looked back over at his other self- the one whose face he had worn for the last half year- and then back at Tony- beautiful kind caring compassionate Tony- the man who could find gold amidst a coal mine, the man who could find love in the heart of a monster- and his very heart felt like it would burst from joy. He was here. He was here and he was safe and loved and everything would be okay. For the first time in his life, even trapped in a body covered in scars and testaments of the past, all he felt towards the future was hope. Tears gathered in his eyes and he crossed over to Tony, pulling him into his arms and kissing him softly and sweetly, the moment glazed and gilded in gold.

“Thank you,” he whispered, voice softer than the beat of a butterfly’s wing.

“Of course, Stephen,” Tony breathed. He reached up and brushed a tear from its gentle path down the incline of Stephen’s cheek. “I love you.”

Stephen’s heart cracked open and liquid gold seemed to burst from its shell and fill his veins with warmth. He smiled, chest tight with happiness.

“I love you Tony. I love you so so much,” he murmured, every single cell in his body thrumming with the bare honesty of the words.

“I love you too, Stephen. Forever and always.”

“Forever and always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright that's a wrap. Let me know what you guys thought!


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